


Satin, Silk And Lace

by Slow_Burn_Sally



Category: Jonathan Strange & Mr Norrell & Related Fandoms, Jonathan Strange & Mr Norrell - Susanna Clarke
Genre: CW: Segundus Blush Overload, Crossdressing, Crossdressing Kink, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, John Segundus In A Dress, Love Confessions, M/M, Pining, Segundus Blushes A LOT, Smut, Sweetness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-01
Updated: 2020-07-02
Packaged: 2021-03-04 21:08:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 33,400
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25022914
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Slow_Burn_Sally/pseuds/Slow_Burn_Sally
Summary: Lady Pole had left some of her clothing behind. After she had been restored to a good and Christian life by the return of her little finger, after Mr. Segundus had done the magic to put it back in its rightful place upon her hand, she told Segundus and Mr. Honeyfoot that she wished to leave some things at Starecross Hall. She would keep her house dress, as it was comfortable and well made, and versatile besides, but that she had no desire to see her evening gown again. It only reminded her unpleasantly of nights spent dancing in the enchanted ballrooms and hallways of Lost Hope. And that was a memory she could well do without. If she never wore another evening gown again, she said, it would be too soon.
Relationships: John Childermass/John Segundus
Comments: 40
Kudos: 34





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Just a romantic tale about a middle aged headmaster who loves dresses, and the gruff man of business who is completely gone on him.
> 
> Thanks as always to my wonderful beta emilycare. <3
> 
> This fic was totally inspired by The Price Of Quills by Ilthit. Their descriptions of a crossdressing Segundus made my heart pound and got my creative mojo going to write a Segundus-in-a-Dress fic of my own.

Lady Pole had left some of her clothing behind. After she had been restored to a good and Christian life by the return of her little finger, after Mr. Segundus had done the magic to put it back in its rightful place upon her hand, she told Segundus and Mr. Honeyfoot that she wished to leave some things at Starecross Hall. She would keep her house dress, as it was comfortable and well made, and versatile besides, but that she had no desire to see her evening gown again. It only reminded her unpleasantly of nights spent dancing in the enchanted ballrooms and hallways of Lost Hope. And  _ that  _ was a memory she could well do without. If she never wore another evening gown again, she said, it would be too soon. 

In addition to her evening gown, which was quite lovely and made of very fine material, she also abandoned a pair of silk shoes and a pair of pearl handled combs that had once adorned her hair on evenings when she and Sir Walter hosted or attended society dinners. There was also a very fine lace shawl. These articles too she wished never to see again as long as she lived. She made a solemn vow that from this day forward, she would dress as plainly and practically as a middle aged matron, and upon seeing the steely, determined look in her eyes as she’d climbed into the carriage that would take her away from Starcross Hall, Segundus believed that she meant it with all her heart. 

When they had asked her why these things had been packed, she was staying at a madhouse, surrounded by naught but windswept moors, she’d responded that Sir Walter had been under the impression that she might need them. He knew very little about the society of women, or women’s clothing, and had naively assumed that she would wish to have a set of fine clothes at her disposal should she want them. It would be a relief to be rid of them she said. 

This however meant that now, Mr. Segundus and Mr. Honeyfoot were left with several articles of fine lady’s clothing, and with no ladies around to wear them. Mr Segundus was a confirmed bachelor of middle age, and Mr. Honeyfoot an older man with a wife and daughters who were too small and willowy to fit into Lady Pole’s clothing. It should also be noted that the Honeyfoot women would most surely balk at owning a gown and shoes and hair combs once worn by an enchanted lady who’d been brought back from the dead. And so Segundus and Honeyfoot decided that until they could find out what to do with the clothes, (which were far too fine to toss out or turn to rags) that they would simply put them in a box on a shelf in the upstairs closet. 

The clothes sat there, untouched, gathering dust for several months, while the hectic and trying business of starting up a school for magicians was gotten underway. 

There was much to be done in the wake of the disappearance of Strange and Norrell. Financial matters were to be discussed with Mrs. Lennox, new renovations were to be done to the house and grounds in preparation for the first of the students to arrive in the fall, and, most surprisingly, John Childermass had started to stop by now and again, usually with Vinculus in tow.

The first time Childermass had knocked on their door, Segundus had bristled. He knew that with Norrell gone and Lascelles disappeared, and Drawlight dead, that there was no one of importance or influence to try and close down the creation of the school again, but still… still he had grown so used to seeing Childermass as the bearer of upheaval, tragedy and disappointment. Or at the very best, change of the sort that often brought some kind of destruction in its wake. 

He’d greeted Childermass stiffly and asked what his purpose was for being there, and though it pained him to be anything other than cordial to those who came to his door, he felt in this case, a healthy dose of caution was warranted. 

Childermass had said that he had business of a magical nature to discuss with Segundus, that he and Vinculus had traveled far that day and would greatly appreciate a cup of tea and the use of the stables so that he could tend to his horse. Segundus, being a conscientious host, had stepped aside and allowed the two men to enter, unable though to offer more than a thin lipped look of barely suppressed disapproval as he did so. He could not help but feel a nervous churning in the pit of his stomach when the dark, brooding man in the battered hat and his shabby companion, covered with rips and stains, with twigs stuck in his hair, filed past him and into Starecross Hall’s main room.

He’d had tea made up and even offered them scones that the cook had baked just that morning. Vinculus had grabbed three with grubby fingers, while Childermass had gratefully accepted one to go along with his tea. The three of them had sat in the kitchen while Childermass explained somewhat haltingly and with a bit of much appreciated contrition, that he wanted very much to be a part of the school that Segundus was helping to build. To be an active participant in the teaching of magic and in working together with Segundus and any other magicians who might be interested, to try and translate the new words that now adorned Vinculus’ skin. His eyes, once cold and unreadable had turned softer...the set of his mouth less stern, more malleable and amenable to a smile. 

Segundus could hardly believe what he’d heard. Here was John Childermass, Mr. Norrell’s rough, ragged, mysterious man of business, a man who had always acted as a force for chaos and upheaval in Segundus’ life, offering to help him build up the school...asking for his help to translate the King’s Letters. It caused a plethora of conflicting emotions to flicker to life inside him, chiefest among them, surprisingly being a strange sort of joy, mixed with relief. He had imagined a far darker purpose for Childermass’ presence, for in truth, darkness seemed to follow the man wherever he went. This impression was only made stronger by the knowledge that he carried a bullet wound beneath his shirt and by the thin white scar that ran jaggedly down his stubbly cheek. The man had a way of drawing animosity and scandal to him, and what was even stranger, he did not seem the type to actively seek it out.

Segundus had given more than a little consideration to the problem that was John Childermass. His thoughts, if left unattended by him, sometimes found themselves centering on the contradictory nature of Norrell’s former servant, on the cynical twist of his smile and on the deep, intimidating rumble of his voice. He knew that there was both a reassuring practicalness and rationalness to Childermass. That he often strove to find the most direct route to solve any problem, (even the problem of closing down Segundus’ first attempt to create the school for magicians), and that he was not a flamboyant sort of person, preferring to lurk in the background whenever possible. And yet...trouble found him as if it were a hungry dog and he, a man walking about with a piece of salt pork in his pocket. It boggled the mind. 

It was not that Segundus saw Childermass as an innocent victim of the circumstances he became embroiled in, only he had the sense that the man did not, as some others might, enjoy or seek out such adverse situations. Childermass struck him as a person who preferred to go unnoticed as much as possible. And yet, he had, if the stories were true, thrown himself in front of a bullet to protect his master, and had drawn the murderous ire of Henry Lascelles. These were not the acts of a man who strove to keep his head down. It was a contradiction that Segundus should perhaps not be spending this much time contemplating. 

After tea, when Childermass’ great, hulking horse, who’s name was Brewer, was taken care of, and Vinculus had been settled with several cups of beer and more food, Segundus and Childermass had found themselves in quite an extensive conversation surrounding what magic was likely to look like now that Strange and Norrell were gone. 

“I was dedicated to serving Norrell in his attempts to suppress knowledge of faerie magic,” Childermass had said while filling his pipe with calloused fingers. “But now that my master has gone, I am free to admit that I too, like Strange, long for magic of all kinds to flourish and be known by all who wish to learn of it.” 

“Oh Mr. Childermass! Yes! I am happy to hear you speak so, for I share that opinion as well.” This unforeseen unity of thought and purpose between them had sparked a feeling of sudden camaraderie in Segundus. Perhaps because he loathed being at odds with anyone, particularly someone of such magical prowess and intimidating presence as Childermass. “If that is the case,” he continued, unable to help a small excited grin from pulling at the corners of his mouth, “then we shall welcome any help you see fit to give us in the creation of the school.”

“Good,” remarked Childermass with a small grin of his own. “I had hoped you would not turn me away. I know that in the past I have behaved...in a manner that did not promote a harmonious collaboration, but I did hope that we could put those days behind us.” 

Segundus had suppressed a sardonic laugh at Childermass’ very diplomatic way of referring to how he had heartlessly shut down the school in the first place, but he abstained from remarking in any way, for the sake of building their new rapport. 

And that was how, in the year or so after Strange and Norrell’s disappearance, Childermass came to be a regular visitor to Starecross Hall. He would arrive, striding in out of the rain or snow or heat, without warning, greatcoat rustling and hat pulled down low. He came with or without Vinculus (though more often with than not) and would stay for a few days, or even a week’s time at a stretch. He would sit with Segundus and discuss magic in the library, or he would give Segundus and Honeyfoot (Purfois and Levy and Hadley-Bright as well) very helpful advice in how to set up a curriculum for the students and give his input on the best ways one should go about teaching magic. Such a thing had never been usefully attempted since Strange had endeavored to teach his students, only briefly before the events leading up to his disappearance pulled him away from the practice. And before that, it had been hundreds of years since the teaching and practice of magic had been a common thing. The three men, Honeyfoot, Childermass and Segundus were forging their way through largely untested waters, and this, Segundus found, was quite exciting. 

It was not until almost a year later, when the first of the students came to stay at Starecross Hall and some tentative lessons had been successfully executed, that Segundus had the presence of mind to seriously consider what to do about Lady Pole’s clothing, still stored away on a shelf in the hall closet near his bedroom. And why, you may ask, should a man, a middle aged bachelor such as John Segundus be thinking about lady’s clothing at all? He did not feel any romantic attachment to the lady who had once worn them, though he did think quite fondly of her in a friendly fashion. Nor did he have any nieces, sisters, cousins or dear female friends on whom he wished to bestow the clothing as a gift. There should not, under any circumstances be much of a reason for Segundus’ mind to return again and again to the box of clothes and shoes and jewels that lay on the shelf in the closet. And yet...he did think about them, quite frequently.

After Lady Pole had left Starecross Hall, Segundus had been the one tasked with boxing up the dress and accoutrements and finding a place to store them. The moment he had touched them, he’d felt a familiar thrill shoot from the tips of his fingers where they gripped the fine silks and the delicate topography of the seed pearls and small gems that adorned the neckline of the gown, directly to his core. The feel of the soft, finely made fabric against his fingers had brought such immediate and insistent feelings of desire that he had nearly gasped aloud at the force of them. One would naturally assume that touching a lady’s clothing in this intimate manner had stirred up fantasies of touching the female bodies beneath the clothes, but this in Mr. Segundus’ case was not so.

Segundus did not find women appealing in the same way other men did. He did not find himself drawn to touch them (aside from fond pats on the hand or in helping them in or out of carriages with a polite touch to the elbow). He did not think of kissing women, or of making love to them. And so it was not desire for the fairer sex that had him growing hot and breathless upon touching Lady Pole’s clothing. Rather it was the desire to have the clothing close to his skin. 

These thoughts were not new to Segundus. He’d had such yearnings all his life, had remembered being a small boy and clinging to his mother’s stockings, burying his face shyly in her skirts and feeling safe and good. HIs mother had caught him once, when he was very young, trying to wear her apron. She’s given his hand a slap and scolded him harshly, saying that little boys did not wear their mother’s aprons, and this is when he’d first learned that his fascination with skirts and petticoats and other such things was not decent and not good. As he’d grown older, he’d found his eyes drawn inexorably to the fine clothing worn by ladies out on the streets and markets in London. He thought very often of what his own legs would look like, covered with voluminous skirts, of how the tightness of a laced bodice would feel against his chest or at his waist. He’d, over the course of many years, gathered a small collection of pretty ribbons and strips of fabric and would tie them across his chest or cinch them about the waist of his nightdress (or about his naked waist) when he was alone, when he could be certain not to be disturbed, just to feel the restriction and softness of them. 

He did not play this way often, for great was the fear that he would be discovered. And yet, still he longed to put on women’s dresses, to wear pretty jewels in his hair or have colorful silk shoes upon his feet. Such thoughts easily inflamed him, as if his body were a pile of dry leaves, instantly set alight by a single spark of heat into a blazing fire. The flames inside him grew higher still, to a great conflagration of lust when he thought of a handsome gentleman touching him while he wore such feminine clothing. A large hand running up his stockinged thigh. A strong arm about his silk covered waist, perhaps a rough, calloused hand thrust into the top of his gown to stroke at his chest. Oh dear, such thoughts were so deeply affecting, so thrilling and exciting! Segundus felt a deep shame for his desires, but he could not stop from feeling them, had never been able to stop himself from feeling them, all throughout the years of his life. It was not a thing about him that was ever likely to change. 

And so this is why Mr. John Segundus, a middle aged bachelor, a quiet man of simple tastes, found his mind returning again and again to Lady Pole’s gown. And why would he not think so, when only a few steps from his bedroom door there lay a wealth of fine fabrics and pretty jewels for him to play with. 

For several long months, however, he had feared pulling them down from the shelf and bringing them to his room, nor had he had much time for their contemplation, for Starecross Hall had been in a state of constant change. New students, new lesson plans, new people wandering the halls and settling in. It was too risky to allow the magnetic influence of the clothes to push him into making a mistake. To be seen by some errant student as he brought the box to his room. To have a maid or housekeeper, who routinely dug around in closets looking for spare sheets, or flower vases or any number of other household items to notice that the box had gone missing. 

It wasn’t until the school had started to move like a well oiled machine that Segundus could contemplate the acquisition of the clothing. Not until several weeks of classes had passed and no one seemed to be digging about in closets for things quite as frequently as they once had. That was when Segundus dared to go and fetch the box. And he did so in the small, dark hours of the morning, seeing his way there by moonlight and feeling with trembling fingers for the box upon its shelf by touch alone, for he dare not light a candle or lantern to help show him the way. 

Once he had it in his hands, he’d rushed back to his room, shutting and locking his door immediately and leaning back against it, his heart hammering inside his chest like a wild thing. He clutched the box of clothing to him, hugging it tightly for a moment before daring to step further into his room and lay it on the bed. Never before had he managed to obtain lady’s clothing of his own. And Lady Pole’s clothing, which she swore fervently that she no longer wanted, did not have to be stolen, or purchased by use of lies. No one need be lied to, nor stolen from for Segundus to possess these clothes, and this made his heart happy. 

And what clothes they were! He reverently lifted the lid of the box and let his greedy eyes play over the soft, shining fabric of Lady Pole’s gown. It was made of a pale, ivory silk with a pattern of silvery gray stripes. The sleeves were short and trimmed with lace, designed to cover a lady’s shoulders, but reveal her upper arms, when not covered by a shawl or a pelisse. The bodice was adorned with delicate patterns of seed pearls and small glass beads and gleamed beautifully in the candlelight of Segundus’ room. The high waist of the gown consisted of a gray silk ribbon, that tied in a bow in the back, and the long skirts, when Segundus lifted the gown by it’s shoulders and let them spill out of the box and tumble toward the floor, were pleasingly stiff and heavy with the thickness and high quality of the fabric as well as the layers of gauzy petticoats underneath. 

With his breath coming quickly and his hands trembling with desire, he lay the gown reverently across his bed and turned his attention to the other contents of the box. He lifted the lacy shawl out next and held it up to the light, letting its delicate pattern of roses and vines slide through his fingers as he caressed the fabric. He dared to wrap himself in it for just a moment, feeling a spark of urgent lust deep inside as it settled upon his shoulders and he pulled it tight around him. Before he could lose himself in touching and being touched by the soft lace however, he lay that aside as well and lifted out the shoes. 

They were small, delicate things with a pretty heel, covered over in pale yellow silk and adorned with more seed pearls and glass beads, and were clearly meant to be paired with the dress. They were large for women’s shoes, for Lady Pole had been rather tall and long of foot and round of arm and leg, but they were still far too small for Segundus’ feet. And yet...he could perhaps fit his toes into them just so he could see them adorning his feet in some way. The very thought had his breath coming faster as he put the shoes down gently on the bed next to the dress and the shawl. 

It was too early in the morning to put the dress on, even though he longed to do so, he knew that it would take some time and care, and that once he wore the clothing, he would invariably wish to bring himself to a sexual climax, and this would also take time if it were to be fully enjoyed. 

Instead, he put the dress and shoes away (not bringing out the pretty combs just yet) but left the shawl draped across his bed. He then removed all of his clothing and pulled back the sheets. His cock was already hard and throbbing from having touched the beautiful clothing, from hearing the rustle of the stiff fabric and running his fingers over the pearls and beads of the bodice of the gown. Just those few small, simple touches had him tight and tingling with lust. 

After he was comfortable, he pulled the lace shawl across his legs, draping it over his thighs and letting it settle against his knees and calves. The feel of the soft fabric dragging across the skin of his legs and tickling the hairs there had him moaning in anticipation. He dared not bring the fabric up, to drape it over his cock and belly or his chest as he truly desired, for he could not bear to risk ruining it with the mess he knew he was about to make. For now, the feel of it, so gentle and feminine and soft against his legs would have to do. 

And do it did. He managed to stroke himself only a dozen times, his head lifted so that he could look down at the way the lace draped itself over his ankles like the hem of a skirt, before he was exploding in pleasure, the peak of which punched the air from his lungs and made the edges of his vision go white with the force of it. Afterward, he lay gasping his heaving chest and belly criss crossed with streaks of swiftly cooling spend, his eyes drifting closed with the pure languid satisfaction he felt in the aftermath of his climax. Before he could let sleep pull him under however, he wiped himself off with the piece of rag he had had the forethought to bring to bed with him, then gently lifted the lace shawl free with his clean hand and went to wash himself off in his basin. Once he was sure his hands were adequately cleaned, he carefully folded the shawl and placed it atop the dress in the box and closed the lid. He then stored the box away under his bed. 

He hoped that no one would notice it was gone, and if they did, that it would be a simple matter of telling them that he’d moved the box temporarily to reach something else upon the top shelf and that he’d return it immediately. Or perhaps that he had feared that such costly and finely made items would be harmed where they were and had moved them to his rooms for safekeeping. There were quite a few new people around Starecross Hall of late, and some of them were quite young and clumsy were they not? 

He would be saved in any case by the pure fact that no one would ever dream of suspecting him of wanting to wear the clothing. Such a thing was not even known of outside of the molly houses and boy brothels of London, or in certain very private clubs for the influential and the very rich that Segundus had only heard rumored to have existed, and to which he had of course never been invited. There were men who dressed as women in the theater, but that was only to be done on stage, and not as part of one’s everyday life or the practice of lonely pleasures the likes of which Segundus engaged in. A good, decent Yorkshireman such as Mr. Honeyfoot, or a kind and well read lady such as Mrs. Lennox would never assume such tawdry motives of quiet, soft spoken John Segundus. 

Still, he needed to be very careful. He needed to only put them on when the door was securely locked and the curtains drawn closed. He must always put them back in the box and hide them away when he was done. Also, and this was of utmost importance, he could not risk staining them or spoiling them with the evidence of his passions. He must find a way to use the clothing to satisfy his urges safely and cleanly. If perchance someone were to wish to try and sell them, or a lady of the appropriate size and shape were to be found to give them to as a gift, it would not do to have stains from his lustful emissions upon the fabric. Dear Lord no! Segundus’ insides twisted with anxiety and shame to even imagine such a thing happening. 

And more than being discovered, there lay inside him a deep feeling of mortification at the thought of ruining things that were so very delicate and so well made. The fabric to make these pieces, and the pearls sewn into the bodice and adorning the silk shoes likely cost more money than Segundus had ever seen in his life. And they were so very beautiful besides. It would be a tragedy to ruin them. 

But despite all of these worries, Segundus could not bring himself to consider them too much, for he was deeply satisfied and quite worn out. Because he had experienced a sexual release of such magnitude, it did not take Segundus long to begin drifting off into a deep and dreamless sleep, as thoughts of hopefully trying on the dress sometime soon and the memory of the soft fabric against his skin floated happily through his drowsy mind. 

He awoke sometime later in the early morning hours and found that he could not go back to sleep, that his mind and body were atingle with the excitement of acquiring this treasure that he had now hidden under his bed. After tossing and turning for perhaps another hour or so, he abandoned sleep and dressed himself to go down to the kitchen for some tea. 


	2. Chapter 2

Childermass was awake before the dawn. It was a habit he’d picked up during his days as a pickpocket before he worked for Norrell. A habit of being awake early, catching the worm as it were. Early risers were less likely to be thieved from, less likely to be caught unawares. In his pickpocket days, he had always risen well before first light, and had stopped by the bakery around five and had been given the best and freshest bread rolls and pastries. Waking early also meant he could find the choicest spot in the market from which to watch the crowds and spot his marks. It was a habit that had become so ingrained that he could not now break it. 

In Norrell’s employ, he had risen early every day as well. Usually by four o’clock. Sometimes as early as three. At Hurtfew Abbey, he had used his early morning hours to ready Norrell’s desk and organize his papers, to put his books in order. After they’d moved to London, he had the company of other servants, running pre-dawn errands, and the cleaners who worked sweeping the streets and snuffing street lamps. Also any drunkards who were stumbling home, or sometimes sitting outside the now-closed doors of ale houses, leaning against each other in bleary solidarity while singing tawdry songs. Childermass also used these early hours in London to walk the streets looking for information, clues to assist Norrell in the finding of new books, or simply doing business of his own. He had several merchants and tarts who he paid a few shillings to go here and there for information and gossip and a few pick pockets who’d tried and failed to steal from him that he could now rely upon to be his eyes and ears around town, as they immediately respected him when he’d foiled their attempts to nick his purse. 

Now in Starecross Hall, there were no errands to run, no gossip to uncover and no books to ferret out, and yet, here he was, wide awake at three o’clock. Next to him, Vinculus snored dramatically, mouth hanging open and limbs everywhere, necessitating that Childermass sleep on the thin strip of bed that the once vagabond street conjurer did not occupy with his sprawling. He was by now very familiar with Vinculus’s sleeping habits. He’d grown accustomed to sleeping on the narrow wedge of mattress afforded him, or, if Vinculus tossed and turned too violently, or if he tried to grope Childermass too often in his sleep (for Vinculus was a randy person who’d had five wives to keep satisfied), Childermass would slap his hand away and pull a blanket and pillow onto the floor next to the bed to sleep there. 

Sleeping with Vinculus was not a pleasant experience, but truth be told, Childermass and sleep had never been fast friends. He often slept atop Brewer, trusting his well honed equilibrium, and his horse’s steady gait to keep him from toppling out of the saddle. He’d slept on the ground next to guttering campfires in bitter cold or suffocating heat. He’d dozed in the narrow, lumpy beds of prostitutes (though it had been quite a long time since he’d done that). Childermass slept where and when he could and saw sleep in general as a thing to be grasped at here and there, rather than something one engaged in for several peaceful hours at a stretch. 

Mr. Segundus on the other hand, slept every night in his own, spacious bed, and rose every morning to a basin of fresh water in which to perform his daily toilet. Mr. Segundus’ hair was always glossy and dark, his skin clean and pale, his eyes sharp and bright and curious. Childermass did not envy Segundus the softness and comfort of his home, he only wondered at the differences in their histories and character, now that they had become better acquainted. 

Why had Childerass found his early morning thoughts turning to the headmaster of the Starecross School for Magicians? He could not say. He only knew that since coming to Starecross Hall several months ago now, his thoughts often returned again and again to the shy, nervous man who had reluctantly welcomed Childermass into the kitchen that day. 

Perhaps it was a sense of guilt that brought his thoughts so inexorably to Mr. Segundus? Childermass had done many disreputable things in the service of Mr. Norrell. He had intimidated and threatened people, had stolen from, spied upon and manipulated people in any manner of ways in order to obtain more books for his master. He’d gone to great lengths to assuage Norrell’s almost constant paranoid fear that he was under attack from people and forces that were Hell bent on taking his books away and on perverting the course of English magic. 

Norrell had largely been a fair master, or fairer than most, and had generally treated Childermass in many cases with respect. And though he had failed Childermass in the most important of ways on several occasions, Childermass could not find it in himself to resent the man, nor indeed to feel overly regretful about the things Norrell had asked him to do. All save one thing. 

The closing of the Starecross school did indeed weigh heavily on Childermass’ conscience. The look on Segundus’ face when he saw Childermass dismount outside the Hall that day, a look of dismay and apprehension, had somehow cut Childermass to the quick. To think that he evoked those emotions within the other man solely from his very presence was strangely disheartening to him. 

The feelings of guilt had only mounted and grown upon seeing Segundus’ dark eyes cloud with anger and grief over being told that the school could not continue. It was a thing he so obviously held very dear, and being the harbinger of it’s destruction had not been an easy thing for Childermass to do. Keeping the regret from his face as he’d done it had been even more difficult still. 

Segundus likely did not know this, but Childermass had always respected him. He’d respected his refusal to sign Norrell’s contract. He’d respected the kind and steadfast way that Segundus had cared for Lady Pole, even when all who knew her saw her as a murderous mad woman with no hope for redemption. Childermass had even respected the stiff angry look Segundus had bestowed upon him when he’d arrived, several long months ago now at the door to Starecross Hall with Vinculus, requesting entry. There was resentment and anger in those dark, earnest eyes, and a determined set to Segundus’ jaw and his mouth that had Childermass sincerely afraid that he would not be allowed entry. That Segundus would turn them away, (and be well within his rights to do so). 

But, surprisingly, and thankfully, Segundus had only nodded in a stiff fashion and had stood aside, welcoming Childermass onto the grounds of an institution whose development he had so heartlessly cut short with threats and foul promises not so very long ago. 

Ever since then, it seemed as if Childermass had been forgiven. Segundus had welcomed him in, fed him and Vinculus (no small feat as the man ate like a hungry wolf), and allowed them to stay there whenever they wished. He was an unfailingly kind and attentive host, and quite an accomplished amateur magician. What he lacked in finesse and skill, he more than made up for in dedication and passion to the art of magic. Talking to Segundus at length about magical subjects and the running of the school had fast become one of Childermass’ favorite ways to pass the time.

It slowly dawned on Childermass that perhaps he was thinking of Mr. Segundus so often because for the first time in his long and rather varied life, he seemed to have made a true friend. Childermass and Segundus came together to discuss things they both loved. They worked together to help build something positive and productive and quite vital to the enrichment of English society. Childermass had no hidden agenda where Segundus was concerned. No need to steal from him, manipulate him or intimidate him. He simply enjoyed the man’s company and shared a lofty common goal with him. This sort of acquaintance was rare indeed for a man like John Childermass, and he found that it left him with a soft place in his heart for the small, dark haired headmaster with his delicate hands and nervous disposition. Though they were opposites in many ways, they had a very fond regard for one another, and this warmed Childermass in a way that was unfamiliar to him.

In addition to the warmth he felt for Segundus, he had found himself missing Starecross Hall when he went away on his trips about the country with Vinculus. There was something to be said for being welcomed and fed and given a comfortable bed to sleep in was there not? And to engage in many long discussions on the fascinating subject of magic with Segundus, Honeyfoot and the other Instructors, and to help the students of the school, these things were very appealing to Childermass. He had led a rough life, had never given much of a care for his own comfort or felt much pain for his solitude or his nomadic existence, until now. Until he had what he was starting to think of as a home to return to. In a place where he was not a servant but a colleague. It was a heady feeling, and unusual, and Childermass was still circling these feelings with apprehension, wondering how long his welcome would last...wondering if it would all fall apart and change suddenly like all the stable things in his life invariably did. 

Shaking his head to clear it of such sentimental musings, he swung his feet out of bed and rose into a long stretch, groaning as stiff tendons and sore muscles sang from the movement. Once he had washed up (a true luxury and one he only had when staying at an inn or at the hall,) and dressed for the day, he left a still snoring Vinculus and wandered downstairs to the kitchen. 

He was surprised to find Segundus seated at the kitchen table, cup of tea in front of him, a book open in his hands. The other man looked up when Childermass entered and gave him a soft smile of welcome, hastily marking his page and closing the book. “Good morning Mr. Childermass,” he said quietly, clearly trying to not to wake anyone else by speaking too loudly.

“Good morning Mr. Segundus. You are up early are you not?” Childermass sat opposite Segundus, his eyes taking in the (slightly messy) fall of glossy black hair, shot through with strands of silver against the man’s pale brow, and how his eyes were a little more creased than usual. 

“I sometimes struggle to sleep,” Segundus admitted with a sheepish grin. “It is not a problem that plagues me often, but when it does, I toss about until I grow tired of it and then come here for a cup of tea and to get an early start on the day.” He lifted the teacup to his lips and Childermass was momentarily distracted by the gentle way that they caressed the rim of the cup. “You are up early as well?” Segundus left the question hanging in the air between them.

“I have risen before the dawn for many years and now find that I am likely to do so for the rest of my days,” Childermass replied. 

“Is your bed comfortable sir? Is there anything that you and Vinculus require that I have neglected to provide for you? I am sorry that I could not give you each your own rooms, but the others are all taken up by students.”

“No, there is nothing we need,” Childermass said with a small shake of his head. “I have slept next to Vinculus for many nights now, and have grown accustomed to his flailing and snoring.” 

Segundus giggled, the sound of it merry and light and far more youthful than a man of his years had any right to make. He ducked his head and smiled shyly down into his teacup and Childermass’ heart made a funny movement inside his chest, as if it had jumped sideways a step. 

“May I join you in having a cup of tea?” He asked, putting aside the strange movements of his heart for the time being.

“Oh certainly! I am being a terrible host!” Segundus jumped up to fetch a second cup and to bring the teapot from where it sat, being warmed on the top of the stove, to pour Childermass some tea. “Are you hungry?” He asked. “Mrs. Bradford shall be down to make breakfast soon, but I can always find something to eat if you wish it…” 

Childermass shook his head, wondering silently what had changed about Segundus this morning to make him so pleasing to the eye. The man was usually bright and friendly, but today, even lacking sleep, he seemed, somehow almost to glow. His cheeks had a dusting of rosy color and his eyes, eyes that Childermass had often thought were quite pretty, were flashing with a sort of playful mischief that set off a nervous buzz in the pit of Childermass’ stomach.

Yes, John Segundus was pleasing to look at. Childermass had always thought so. Segundus was no great beauty, being small, pale, a little fragile, with a thin mouth and a long nose, but the contrast of his raven wing hair with his alabaster skin, the way he blushed so whenever he felt shy or nervous (which was often) and the warm glint in his dark brown eyes combined to make him quite attractive. Childermass had often wondered why Segundus remained a bachelor. True, not every woman desired to be with a man so pale and slight of build, but he was almost certain that at least a few ladies must have hoped over the years for a proposal from a man so clearly kind and clever, and now a headmaster to boot. 

And yet Mr. Segundus remained alone. Now though, with the fresh flush in his cheeks and the shine in his eyes… it almost seemed as if he had indeed met someone special. He had the look of a new infatuation about him. The way one smiles at nothing and finds everything pleasing when one first falls in love. Whatever had happened to make him bloom like a spring flower, it’s effects were quite obvious, and were causing a strange flame to flicker into being inside Childermass’ chest. He found he was gripped suddenly with the urge to place a hand to that flushing cheek, to brush that glossy hair back from Segundus’ white brow with gentle fingertips. 

“What plans have you today for the students?” He asked, a little more brusquely than he intended, still caught off guard by the stirring inside him, by the way Segundus’ eyes made his breath come just a bit shorter than usual.

“I am glad you asked, sir,” Segundus replied, leaning forward eagerly in his chair, “for I had wanted to get your opinion on the lesson plans for the week. Purfois is pushing to start the students on spells to compel the elements. Spells to create fire, to make rain fall and so forth. I know that this is an important skill for a practical magician to have, but it can so quickly descend into chaos if the students are not very careful. Honeyfoot and I are of the opinion that such lessons should come far later in the curriculum, whereas Purfois, Hadley-Bright and Levy insist that all magic should be taught as soon as the students are able and willing to practice it. This makes sense as they worked directly with Strange, who was, as you know, quite reckless with his execution of magic.”

Childermass nodded, contemplating the issue in silence for a moment before replying. “I think sir, that perhaps the students may be separated into two groups. Those whom you believe possess the skill and patience to safely learn the elemental spells, and those whom you do not think are ready yet for such a large responsibility. Then, once the mature and clever ones have learned it, you may have some idea of how to approach the rasher or more immature students when it behooves you to teach them the spells at a time of your choosing.”

“Oh Mr. Childermass! What a very clever idea!” Segundus clapped his hands and beamed at Childermass across the table, seeming to forget that he had dedicated himself to keeping quiet this morning. His smile was so full of joy that it was almost painful to look upon. “I would never have thought of such an elegant solution myself. Thank you!”

Childermass ducked his head and felt his cheeks grow warm. Blushing was not something he did often, for there was little in the world that would cause him to blush. Segundus’ unbridled admiration and praise of his idea was apparently one such thing however, for his face felt suddenly very hot. “I am happy that I could help,” he replied, glad that his long, ragged hair hid part of his face from Segundus’ gleaming eyes. 

“I shall tell the other instructors as soon as they come down to breakfast,” Segundus said, his voice tinged with excitement, and it was all Childermass could do not to stare at him openly, for he was truly transformed this morning. 

Childermass rose from his chair and mumbled something about going outdoors for a smoke, and then fled, forgetting to light his pipe in his haste, and then lacking the courage to go back inside to fetch a flaming twig from the fire. He knew that he needed somehow to distance himself from the man in the kitchen, to escape his soft, joyous eyes and brilliant smile. 

It was as if Segundus’ flush of newfound happiness were infectious. As if the man, having awoken to some new feelings of deep affection for someone, or something (Childermass knew not what or whom), had spread that affection like spores on the breeze to Childermass, who now felt his heart beating wildly in his chest and his mind filling with images of Segundus’ lovely, smiling face. 

Childermass had guarded his heart well over the course of his life. As a young boy of no more than fourteen, he had fallen hopelessly in love for the first time with a prostitute twice his age, named Lucette. She was French, and had dark hair and pale skin and looked, to Childermass’ eyes, like the beautiful women in the paintings that hung in the houses of wealthy men. She’d told him filthy jokes and given him kisses on the cheek and he’d been very aroused by her slim, pleasing figure and the bright, garish silks and baubles she wore when she walked the streets in search of clients. 

Lucette had refused to engage with him until he had at least reached the age of sixteen, and young Childermass had scrimped and saved his earnings for two full years in order to afford the privilege of giving her his virginity. He’d pined away for the lovely, dark haired woman with the rouged lips and the sparkling dark eyes for so very long. And she’d been quite gentle and loving when she’d finally allowed him to lay with her, to sink into her warm body and be held by her slim white arms as he’d trembled his way tentatively through his first experience of lovemaking. When she’d grown ill and died of consumption some years later, Childermass had wept bitter tears upon hearing of her passing. They’d enjoyed many good nights together and had become dear friends before his travels took him away from her, never to see her again. He felt like when she died, she’d taken a part of him with her, for she was the first person he had ever loved this way.

The second time he’d fallen in love was with a sailor who served on the same ship as he. The man was clever and kind and he could sail better than he could walk. They became fast friends and then, one night, when the addition of new passengers from a port in the Netherlands forced them to share a room and a bed, they’d soon ended up wrapped in each other’s arms. The sexual congress they’d shared had been astounding and illuminating to Childermass, who had before then been ignorant of the pleasures two men could share (though had found inside him a mounting curiosity surrounding the subject). He and this Sailor were forced to keep their relationship secret, and when the ship landed once more on English soil, Childermass had left to search for work, finding life on the sea not to his liking. Christopher (for that was the sailor’s name) had chosen to stay. Childermass had not had the courage to ask the man to come with him, and where would they go in any case? They could not very well settle down together in a little cottage by the sea. Still, he felt another piece of his heart sail away when Christopher’s ship glided slowly out into the harbor and back to sea. 

He’d learned through the years that to give his heart away meant that it would always be cut and torn and bloodied in the process. That to let another close to him meant that somehow they would always find a way to hurt him irrevocably, for he still bore the scars of his first two loves upon his soul. This was why when he felt the first fond stirrings for Gilbert Norrell, he had never spoken a word of it. He’d pushed the feelings down deep and buried them inside the work he did for Norrell...with the tireless aid and support he offered. When Norrell betrayed him, again and again, Childermass found that despite the fact that he had never once dared to touch or speak to Norrell from a place of deep affection, that his heart could still break. That one need not lie in bed with one’s love for that love to tear at one’s heart. 

This is why he had refused before now to acknowledge to himself what being near Segundus did to him, and why in truth his thoughts returned again and again to the soft spoken headmaster of the Starecross School for Magic. He had precious little strength left for more pain, and John Segundus, with his clever mind and pretty, dark eyes, with the earnest way he dedicated his life to magic, and with his shy smiles...John Segundus had slowly woken up a familiar pull inside Childermass, a longing for more than what their warm friendship could ever offer. 

Childermass paced the garden in the early morning light, breathing deeply and twisting his hands together as his mind desperately sought for some reason, some excuse for what he felt to be false, to be imagined. Perhaps he had simply been too long without a lover’s touch and the lack of such physical diversions had turned his lustful thoughts in Segundus’ direction? Perhaps, he was simply falling in love with Starecross Hall, finding a true home for the first time in his life, and that had become mixed up and convoluted somehow and had attached itself to Segundus by proxy? 

But even as he sought to find a way free from his feelings, he felt them well up inside him all the stronger. Segundus’ face appeared in his mind over and over and the pull, to touch him, to kiss him, to hold him in Childermass’ arms tugged painfully at his battered old heart, and had his breath catching in his throat. 

There was nothing to be done about it. He could not ever dare to let such a foolish infatuation be known to Segundus. All would simply proceed as it always had. Childermass had kept his heart hidden from Norrell for eighteen long years, easing the ache with visits to molly houses and brothels, and with stolen kisses from Hannah, Norrell’s pretty maid. He could keep it hidden now from Segundus as well. 

The only flaw in this plan was that Gilbert Norrell had not been even close to the man John Segundus was. Norrell feared magic. Segundus welcomed it with open arms, sought it out and shared it with others. Norrell was closed up tight like a banker’s vault, and Mr. Segundus was soft and expressive. Norrell was afraid to love anything or anyone outside of his books, (other than Jonathan Strange that is, for whom he pined so obviously that Childermass could not even bring himself to resent it). Segundus by comparison seemed to love all who crossed his path. And now...now he may very well have found a special sort of love, if his blooming face and joyous smiles were any indication. Childermass wondered which village lass had caught Segundus’ eye and tried not to picture hunting her down and telling her in no uncertain terms to keep her hands to herself. 

He heard noises from inside the kitchen that meant Honeyfoot and others had come down for breakfast and so he dared to enter the house again to join them. Still, he kept to himself during the morning meal, and did not engage Segundus in conversation for the duration of it. He drank a cup of coffee, had some porridge and left as soon as he was done. He may have imagined it, but he thought Segundus looked a little put out when Childermass announced that he would spend the day riding to York to take care of some personal business and that he would return late that night. But surely, he had imagined it. He must have… 


	3. Chapter 3

Segundus told Levi and Purfois, Honeyfoot and Hadley-Bright about Childermass’ idea for teaching the students elemental magic. They all thought it was a very clever idea indeed and quickly set about determining which students were ready and which were not. There were seven Students all told and three of them were deemed cautious and conscientious enough to tackle the beginning of spells to do with wind and rain and fire. The other four were told that they were to continue with their practice of Pale’s Restoration and with the joining spell they had been taught the week before. There were grumbles, but the less experienced, more rash students quickly relented when told that they could only learn elemental magic by mastering the spells they had been working on thus far, and that complaining would only add to their time spent waiting. 

The day went by swiftly and enjoyably, for Segundus, Honeyfoot and Hadley-Bright were in charge of teaching the elemental magic to the three promising students, while Purfois and Levi stayed with the less experienced students. Watching the faces of those who were first able to make a flickering flame dance in the palm of their hands or who caused a soft rain to fall , watching those faces light up when they saw what they were able to accomplish with the use of magic was a delight. Peter, a bookish boy with thin, white-blond hair made a breeze blow through the garden and was able to twist the waters of a small brook into a waterspout a meter high, and he whooped with triumph and jumped in the air and Segundus could not help but laugh along with him. It was truly a joy to witness a new crop of magicians come into their own. 

He felt a pang of regret that Childermass was not here to see it. Their conversation over tea early that morning had felt so very intimate and friendly, and Segundus had hoped that the man would be able to join in the lessons today. 

He was unsure why Childermass had grown silent later that morning and then had ridden off. He was sometimes moody yes, but far less so the more time he spent at Starecross. Segundus could sense that Childermass had warmed to the staff and the other instructors, and of course, to Segundus himself over the past several months. His smiles (which Segundus had never had the pleasure of seeing before,) came more easily. His laughter spilled from him with a frequency and ease Segundus had not thought possible only a few short months ago. Watching Childermass slowly drop his guard and let others in was just as joyous as watching these students tentatively experiment with their first elemental spells. And Segundus felt just as blessed to see it. 

For this reason, Childermass’ quiet manner and abrupt exit were more concerning than they would be had the man not become so consistently open and friendly immediately prior to doing so. But, Segundus reminded himself, a lifetime of being guarded and keeping to oneself was not changed irrevocably overnight. Perhaps Childermass still needed to ride off alone now and then to center his thoughts… or perhaps, and Segundus felt a twinge of anguish at the thought, he found Segundus’ constant questions bothersome? Segundus worried at his lower lip with his teeth as he contemplated the idea that Childermass might be growing tired of him. It was an unpleasant thought, for Segundus felt that he could spend any amount of time in the dark, cynical man’s company and not tire of him in the slightest, and there were few people he knew that he could say that about. 

In fact, he realized with a start, there weren’t  _ any  _ people, apart from Childermass that he could say that about. Not even Mr. Honeyfoot was so consistently enjoyable as a companion in the way Childermass was. This thought struck him out of the blue and it rang like a bell inside his mind for a moment, but he pushed it away and dragged his attention back to the lessons at hand. Thinking fond thoughts of John Childermass had become a habit that was growing harder and harder to break. And what was more concerning, doing so caused a bloom of warmth beneath his collarbone that spread up into his cheeks and made him flustered and distracted and apt to smile more often than was strictly necessary.

Segundus knew what this warmth meant. He knew what these thoughts entailed, but since they could lead nowhere and come to nothing, he chided himself for having them, and always struggled to pull his attention toward more practical matters, and away from a handsome face with a twisted smile. 

After a few more hours of practice, everyone went in for supper and a delightful meal was spent in the discussion of the day's work and how the students might improve certain spells, or even invent new ones (under careful supervision of course). 

Again Segundus missed Childermass’ company. He’d grown accustomed to having the man seated next to him (or very near him as to easily engage in conversation) during supper. Now, he felt his absence keenly. He consoled himself with the knowledge that tonight, he would finally put on the lovely dress left behind by Lady Pole. And the shawl and shoes and beautiful jeweled combs. The anticipation had a thrill shoot through his belly every time he thought of it. 

He finished up supper and after talking with Honeyfoot about the next day’s lessons over a glass of sherry, he excused himself to go up to bed. The putting on of Lady Pole’s dress needed to be done carefully and with some planning. Firstly, before he even opened the box or looked upon the gown, he brought himself to a sexual climax. This ensured that he would not be so easily aroused or tempted to do something that might soil the clothing before he’d had time to enjoy himself fully. After he had stroked himself to the peak of his pleasure (helped along quite a bit by imagining what he soon planned to do) and cleaned himself carefully, he dared to open the box and take out the gown. 

It gleamed softly in the light of his lantern, and he took a moment to simply look at it, to run the silky fabric of the skirts through his fingers and to caress the jewels upon the bodice. It was a good thing that he had already spilled his seed once this evening, for he already felt a stirring in his cock at the feel of the soft material beneath his fingertips. There was more than just lustful arousal at play here however, for the possession of the clothes made a bright sort of joy burst inside his chest. He found himself grinning like a fool as he looked down at the beautifully tailored gown lying upon his bed.  _ At last _ . At last he possessed the thing his heart had desired so ardently for so many years of his life. 

Without taking too much more time to contemplate the treasure before him, he removed his nightshirt in preparation to put on the dress. He regretted that he had no chemise to guard the innermost layers of the material from the touch of his skin, but he was clean and dry and would endeavor to stay so. It was autumn and his room was cool, and so he hoped that this would help keep the fabric clean of sweat or the smell of his skin. 

Slipping the dress over his head felt as if he were stepping into a beautiful cathedral. The feel of the soft petticoats as they spilled across his shoulders and down his back was indescribable. He gently thrust his arms through the sleeves and was beyond relieved that they fit him. His arms were quite slender, even more slender than Lady Pole’s, though they were far more wiry with long muscles and hers were soft and rounded. The dress settled around his shoulders and chest and waist and he had to take a long moment to simply breathe, to wait for the rapid pounding of his heart and the tingling of his skin to abate enough to allow him to continue. 

When he had gathered his wits about him again, he reached behind him to fasten the few buttons of the bodice that he could reach. It was a very difficult act, to do up a button behind one’s own back, and it was something of which he’d had very little practice. He had a sudden and very illuminating understanding of why so many ladies had maids to assist them with dressing. 

The act of closing the buttons of the bodice, even the few he could reach with trembling fingers, pulled the material tighter around his chest and waist and he felt his breath catch and a soft moan escaped his throat. 

The feeling of the stiff fabric of the gown closing around his body was indescribably erotic. He looked down and was a little dismayed to see how loose the top of the gown was. It gaped at his lack of a bosom (for Lady Pole had been quite well endowed in this department and his own chest was narrow and scrawny), but it was of little importance in the grand scheme of things. He could always fill that space with one of his shirts so that he felt the pressure of cloth more snuggly against his skin. 

Once the bodice was buttoned up as much as he could get it, and he had tied the lovely gray silk ribbon around his ribs (another difficult task), he took a few experimental steps around his room. Feeling the skirts swish around his feet and ankles and caress his bare legs as he moved had him instantly aroused and half erect. He was again glad that he’d already brought himself to his pleasure as the soft petticoats brushed across his thighs and against his swiftly stiffening cock. He did an experimental turn and watched with glee as the skirts swirled and billowed around him. 

The joy he felt in that moment was indescribable. The pulsing of lust in his lower belly mixed with the sparks of excitement that danced across every inch of his skin where it touched the fine material of the gown. Segundus felt twin pleasures of having stepped off a ship into an exotic new land, unknown to him and full of exciting sights and sounds, and also of coming home again to rest by his own comfortable hearth. Both feelings, that of new discovery and warm homecoming mingled inside him and swelled until he was quite breathless. 

He stepped back over to the box on the bed and lifted out the lacy shawl and with a deep breath to prepare himself, he settled it about his shoulders and let it drape in the crook of his elbows, the way he had seen countless women do at society functions or while out on the streets. This small act, of settling a shawl about him and letting it drape over his arms in such a way had the effect of something far more intimate and exciting than it would appear to be on the surface. He felt caressed, held and embraced by the soft touch of the pretty lace material. Embraced and seduced and hot and trembling with desire. 

Again his thoughts turned to what it might be like to be held and kissed and touched while wearing the gown and the shawl. What might it feel like were a certain handsome gentleman to take Segundus in his arms and embrace him? The ways this gentleman’s hands might press the soft fabric against Segundus’ skin. He could not admit to himself fully that this person, once a mysterious figure of erotic imaginings now had a familiar face. A face he looked forward to seeing every day. 

If it were not for the fineness of the clothing and the fear he felt for soiling it, he could have easily brought himself off a second time, simply from touching himself through the stiff rustling petticoats of the gown. But he abstained out of respect for the gift he’d been allowed to possess. 

His breath was coming fast and his face was flushed with heat as he turned back to the box in order to pick up the pearl encrusted combs for his hair. 


	4. Chapter 4

Childermass crossed the old packhorse bridge that marked his approach to Starecross Hall with a heavy heart. His thoughts on his ride out, and all during the time he’d spent at York, finding supplies for the students, had returned again and again to Mr. Segundus. It was as if their early morning conversation had opened a door inside him that try as he might, he could not close again. 

The man’s dark eyes and soft voice and kind demeanor had haunted him the entirety of the day, and he was at a loss for what to do about it. There was in truth, nothing to  _ be done _ . Nothing but continue on as Segundus’ steadfast friend and colleague. At the very least, they were as equals, and he was not forced to pine for the other man from a careful distance brought on by the difference in their status, as he had been for Norrell. That was a small comfort though, and did nothing to ease his private anguish. 

As he rounded the final bend in the dark road and the lit windows of Starecross came into sight, he was immediately roused from his musings by the distinct feeling that something was wrong. It was half past midnight, and still several windows were glowing with the yellow light of candles and lanterns, some of which bobbed hurriedly from room to room as if carried aloft by an individual that was rushing about. There was the faint noise of shouting and of doors being slammed shut that echoed into the night air as he approached. As he watched, the front doors opened and a servant, Charles perhaps, sprinted from the house toward the stables, his white shirt and swiftly pumping arms glowing faintly in the darkness. 

It was then that Childermass smelled smoke. The scent of it tripped off an urgent call to motion inside him and he spurred Brewer into a gallop to close the last distance to the Hall. He pulled Brewer up abruptly and threw himself out of the saddle, striding to the door and inside as the smell of smoke intensified and he could hear shouts and screams from the interior of the house. 

The first person he spotted upon entering was Mr. Honeyfoot, his face red and his eyes tight with worry as he hurried his way through the front room of Starecross Hall. Smoke billowed out of a hallway that led to the west bank of rooms.

“Mr. Honeyfoot! What has happened?!” he grabbed the older man by the elbow to arrest his flight and Honeyfoot stopped short, peering up into Childermass’ face a look of confusion before recognizing the dark figure who’d waylaid him.

“Mr. Childermass! Oh thank goodness you are here! One of the students decided to play about with a spell for fire, and taught it to two of the less experienced students, and now several of the Hall’s rooms are aflame! We must cast dampening spells to put the fires out! Charles went off to the stables to draw some water from the well to assist us!”

“Where is Mr. Segundus?!” Childermass tried and failed to keep the urgency from his voice and his grip tightened on Honeyfoot’s arm. 

“Oh my, I do not know. I assume that he is upstairs in his bedroom. Will you please please check on him? Dear god! I had forgotten about him, what with all this madness!”

Childermass was striding toward the staircase before Honeyfoot could even finish speaking. Students and servants and instructors were rushing about, clearly panicked and shouts of confusion and dismay filled the air, along with a thin layer of gray smoke that turned everything hazy. Childermass took the stairs two at a time with only a single thought in his mind.  _ Find Segundus _ .  _ Find him and get him to safety _ . The students were being seen to by Honeyfoot, Levi, Purfois and Hadley-Bright, and Childermass could tell by a certain tingling behind his eyes, that magic, dampening spells and spells to make rain, were already being used on the premises to quell the flames. This freed him to see to the school’s headmaster.

In an instant, he was at Segundus’ door, breathless with worry at the thought of finding the inside of Segundus’ rooms wreathed in flames. Segundus was a magician true, but what if he had slept through the beginning of a fire and had breathed in too much smoke? What if he were unconscious? His door was closed, and, when Childermass tried the handle, he found that it was locked as well, and reassuringly cool to the touch. He banged upon the door and called Segundus’ name, then put his ear to the wood and listened for a response. He heard a sound of dismay, a cry from within and that spurred him to unlock the door with a quick spell and step inside. 

Upon entering Segundus’ room, several things swiftly became apparent. Firstly, that there was no fire there, and not even any smoke, which was a blessing. Secondly, Segundus could not be seen anywhere. And thirdly, and most confoundingly, a lady stood at the center of Segundus’ bedroom floor with her back to him. She was slight, yet tall for a woman, wearing a very fine looking evening gown, with a lacy shawl about her shoulders and her dark hair was done up with gleaming combs. She did not turn to look at him when he entered. 

“Madam! I am sorry to intrude...I…” Childermass paused, confused. Why should this lady stay turned away from him? Why should she be wearing such finery, and most importantly, why was she in Segundus’ room after midnight? And where was Segundus? 

It occurred to him with a flash of shameful jealousy that perhaps this was the woman who had stolen Segundus’ heart, had made his face go all flushed with happiness, and that perhaps she had snuck into his room for a midnight tryst. She could be a wealthy patroness of the school, or a widowed mother of one of the students? Perhaps Segundus had left her here while he investigated the noises from the hallway outside. He let the door shut behind him to shield her from the prying eyes of anyone who happened to be passing, for he did not want to alert anyone else to her presence. If Segundus was indeed entertaining a lady in his rooms at night, it would be seen as quite the scandal by the other inhabitants of Starecross Hall. 

It was then that he noticed that the lady’s shoulders were shaking and that her breath was coming fast. She was clearly upset, and pulled her shawl more tightly around her, as if she suffered from a chill. She had still not turned to face him and had not spoken, and Childermass’ sense that something very odd was afoot only grew at her continued silence. 

“Madam, please. You are safe here.” He said gently. “I shall not tell anyone of your presence, but you must tell me where Mr. Segundus has gone. Starecross Hall is aflame and I fear for his safety.”

Slowly, reluctantly, as if every small movement pained her, the woman turned around to face him. It was with complete shock that Childermass saw her pale profile come into view and as he realized that she was not a lady at all, but that it was  _ Mr. Segundus _ himself that stood before him, dressed in a lady’s evening gown. Segundus’ face was a mask of fear. His eyes were wide and staring, his mouth gaping open and he was as white as a sheet. 

“Mr. Segundus…” Childermass felt himself fall back against the door as he was overcome with a wave of confusion. “What...what are you…” He found that speech had abandoned him as his eyes played swiftly up and down Segundus’s silk draped frame, taking in the long folds of the gown, the bejeweled combs in his dark hair and the look of utter misery and shock upon his pale face. 

Segundus’ cheeks swiftly went from white to a deep pink flush and his mouth opened and closed several times but no words issued forth. It occurred to Childermass, distantly and with some surprise that Segundus appeared quite stunningly beautiful in his gown, and the more his eyes drank in the appearance of his pale skin and how it contrasted with the fine material of the dress and how his flushed cheeks and flashing eyes and raven dark hair were set off by the colors of the cream and gray silk of the gown… well, he realized Mr. Segundus looked quite lovely indeed. 

He watched helplessly as tears came to Segundus’ eyes and tumbled slowly down his flushed cheeks. “Please…” the other man whispered, finally finding the strength to speak. “Please...don’t…”

Childermass knew instantly what Segundus wished to say and he shook his head swiftly in response. “I shan't tell anyone. I promise. I shan’t tell a single soul,” he replied, taking a step in Segundus’ direction and lifting a hand to reassure him, as if calming a wild-eyed horse or a skittish dog. Segundus stepped back in response, eyes still wide and staring, as more tears fell down his cheeks. 

“I shall leave now,” Childermass said, keeping his voice careful and soft so as not to further frighten Segundus. “I shall leave and say that you are well and that you will join us once you are...dressed. I shall tell no one,” he promised again with a small shake of his head, hoping that his tone would convince Mr. Segundus of his sincerity and goodwill. “Lock the door behind me,” he said. He then tore his eyes from Segundus’ face, turned and swiftly exited the room. He made sure to shut the door firmly after him, before he rushed downstairs to offer his help, head swimming and heart pounding with the knowledge of what he had just seen. 

It was not that men dressing in women’s clothing was a shocking thing to Childermass. He himself had paid quite a lot of hard earned silver for the company of men wearing frocks in his day. It was merely the fact that  _ John Segundus _ did so that had him feel as if he were walking through a dream. Could this be the reason for the other man’s recent happiness? Perhaps it was not a new love at all that had made Segundus glow so beautifully just last morning. Perhaps it was the acquisition of these ladies clothes that were the cause for his transformation? 

Childermass spent a harried but effective hour or so casting spells to make rain fall from the ceiling in the rooms that were licked with flames and then casting spells to restore and renew the charred wood (though some was too far gone to be healed by magic). By the end of it, everyone was relieved to discover that no one had been harmed, other than a couple of the students coming down with a bit of a cough and one of them having a blister on the bottom of his foot from stepping on a smoldering splinter in bare feet. It was miraculous indeed that they had not all burned to death in their beds, and they had Hadley-Bright’s spells of warding and alarm to thank for that, as a loud chiming could be heard the moment the flames started. If they had not started in so many places simultaneously, the whole situation might have easily been avoided. 

Segundus came downstairs eventually and had tirelessly lent his magical and practical help to combat the flames and to shepherd the confused, frightened students to safety. He was of course dressed in his normal clothing, his hair neatly smoothed down, but still a little disordered from having been pulled back and secured with the pretty, jeweled combs Childermass had seen him wearing not a half an hour before this. It was as if it had never happened, as if Childermass had never seen Segundus, standing, resplendent in cream and silver silk, wrapped in a white lace shawl. 

Segundus refused to look at Childermass. He kept his eyes trained to the ground in front of him, or on the faces of the students and other instructors, and never looked in Childermass’ direction, except by accident. And when their eyes did meet, Segundus’ would flicker away swiftly and he would grow pink and his face would contort with discomfort. 

Childermass hated that Segundus avoided looking at him and seemed quite miserable in his company. He hated that he had uncovered Segundus’ secret so abruptly and with such a violent intrusion into his personal space. He knew he must reassure Segundus that he would keep his secret, that Segundus dressing in women’s clothing was not shocking or upsetting to him in the slightest, but he knew that at the moment, with the chaos of the school and the confusion of the fires just being brought under control was not the time to say such things. And besides, they would have to be alone for a conversation such as this. 

By the time everyone had been accounted for and all the fires had been put out, it was close to dawn. The students had to sleep three and four to a room and trundle beds and extra blankets and pillows were distributed to allow them all to have a place to lay down. Discipline, or what to do with those who’d started the fires would have to wait until morning, for everyone was exhausted and covered in soot. 

Childermass trudged upstairs to where Vinculus, who had been absent for most of the panic, was sitting cross legged on the bed, grinning like a jack-o-lantern.    
  


“The students almost burnt the place down did they?” He asked when Childermass entered their room. Childermass scowled and toed off his shoes before starting to unbutton his waist coat, intending to wash himself from some of the soot that had collected on his hands and face. 

“That headmaster of yours,” the raggedy man continued, a suggestion of something Childermass did not like creeping into his tone. “He was asleep through it all was he? Or perhaps otherwise engaged. Tis a pity you had to go and drag him out from his rooms.”

Childermass glared at Vinculus as he unbuttoned his soot stained waist coat and shirt and shrugged them off. “He is trying his best,” he snapped back, unable to help himself from feeling a surge of protectiveness for Segundus. “And it was not his fault. If anything,  _ I  _ gave him the wrong advice on how to teach the students in the first place. So just keep your opinions to yourself. Thank you very much.” 

“As you wish Reader,” replied Vinculus somewhat chastised, but still with a small hint of a mischievous smile as he settled down in bed, pulling the covers over himself until only a ratty tuft of his hair remained above them. “Good night to you then.”

“Good night,” Childermass said as he scrubbed his hands with a bar of harsh soap and then worked it into a lather on his forearms. He soon finished cleaning up and put on his nightdress before climbing into bed beside his already snoring travel companion and attempting to sleep. Now though, after the hectic pace of the last few hours had finally slowed and subsided, he found that he could not relax enough to drift off. 

His mind, once given free license to think of something other than spells for rain and busying itself with the passing along of buckets of water, settled once again on the confounding discovery of Segundus and his secret passion. 

_ Perhaps _ , thought Childermas,  _ Segundus does not really enjoy wearing the clothes. Perhaps he was simply conducting some experimentation surrounding the execution of a spell? _

But even as he thought it, he knew it was ridiculous to even consider such a thing. It had been clear as day what Segundus had been doing in that gown. His shame and fear and shock upon being discovered was not the response of a man caught in the controversial execution of a spell. It was the shame of a man who was caught indulging himself in something he truly believed was sinful. No, it was quite obvious that Segundus enjoyed the clothing simply because of what it was, and not for any other reason. It was not a rare thing to Childermass, but it would very much be considered rare and controversial in the extreme. Something to be ashamed of and to hide away from prying eyes.

Childermass had indeed enjoyed the company of men-dressed-as-women in certain sorts of establishments in London over the years. But these lads wore their chemises and petticoats, their baubles and feathers as a tawdry display for the pure sake of enticing interested gentlemen to spend their coin. There was little joy or excitement for the wearer, for they donned the same cheap and tattered clothing, (likely passed around between them and oft mended for rips and tears), and went about the same routines of helping the curious men of London to slake their lust day in and day out. Perhaps one or two of the slender, accommodating young men in the Molly houses Childermass had frequented years ago had indeed reveled in the donning of ladies clothing, but if they had, they did not appear to do so in his presence, for they gave precious little indication of it. 

Segundus however… he was another story entirely. He was a gentleman of polite and careful manners and a soft, quiet disposition. He could hardly have learned of such a practice from the likes of Molly houses in London or Galleries of Palais-Royal in Paris. Childermass could not see Segundus in places like that, though perhaps he was mistaken? 

Regardless of when and how Segundus had acquired this taste for women’s clothing, the man had somehow found himself at least one gown of very high quality. Had he stolen it? The thought was incongruous with Segundus’ personality in the extreme. It was one of the things that had drawn Childermass to Segundus in the first place. This innocence and purity of motive. This desire to be honest and forthright and kind to all that crossed his path. The thought of him stealing women’s clothing for the sole purposes of satisfying some need within himself was difficult indeed for Childermass to imagine. 

Other things however were quite easily imagined. The memory of Segundus’ delicate collarbone, heaving with his breath above the loose bodice of the gown for one. That was a thing that was currently occupying Childermass’ thoughts. Or the way his dark hair had gleamed next to the shining jewels of the combs that held it back from his face. Or how small and helpless and lovely he looked, how Childermass had ached suddenly with the urge to hold him and reassure him that what he was doing was not wrong at all. That seeing Segundus this way was appealing to Childermass. For it  _ was  _ appealing, deeply so. Segundus in a dress was a thing that had Childermass’ body tightening and heating with lust at the just mere thought of it. He did not wish the man to know of his lustful feelings, only to reassure him that he was not judged by Childermass in the slightest. 

He doubted that the other man would welcome such lust were Childermass to express it. Segundus at this moment acted as if he never wanted to see Childermass’ face again, and that would have to be dealt with carefully. Childermass did not think he could bear it if Segundus continued to avoid him, to shy away from his looks and to leave the room when Childermass entered it. He needed to make amends somehow. Childermass put aside his lustful thoughts for the moment for they did no one any good, and focused instead on how to win back Segundus’ trust. And, because he was a clever man who was quite accustomed to solving difficult problems, he soon thought of the perfect solution. And with this solution, so elegant and so simple that he did not believe he hadn’t thought of it sooner, he was finally able to calm his whirring mind and drift off to sleep.


	5. Chapter 5

Segundus woke late the next day, from dreams of smoke and darkness, of wandering the halls of Starecross, stumbling through the dark corridors in Lady Pole’s dress. He had been so very afraid that someone would see him and yet no one had been there. He was alone and lost and scared and it was dark and the smoke was making him cough in his dream. 

He woke coughing and clutching at his neck. It seemed the smoke from last night’s fires had invaded his lungs more than he’d realized. Wheezing and with a dry throat, the remains of his dream drifting slowly away like cobwebs in a breeze, he swung his feet out of bed and rubbed his eyes to clear them of the fog of sleep. 

_Childermass_. The memory assaulted him as soon as he’d woken enough for his mind to recall the events of early that morning. The knock on the door that had his heart leap into his throat. The sound of Childermass’ voice, muffled and urgent and edged with panic as he’d called Segundus’ name. How Segundus had only enough time to turn his back, unable to think of what else to do, before Childermass had unlocked the door with a spell and entered. 

His face burned with the recollection of how comprehension had slowly dawned on Childermass when he’d realized it was Segundus who stood before him in a lady’s gown. Segundus did not think he had seen Childermass so nakedly startled and taken aback before that moment. The man was entirely unflappable, and yet, his face when he’d recognized Segundus had betrayed a wide-eyed shock that had only made Segundus’ fear and embarrassment all the worse. To shock John Childermass was quite an accomplishment, and Segundus had managed it in the most deeply personal and deeply shameful way imaginable. 

For a moment, Segundus could do nothing but put his head in his hands and try to calm his breathing and the racing of his heart. How could he face Childermass today at breakfast? How could he stand next to the man while they spoke to the students about the events of the night before and not fall down and die from shame? 

There was nothing to be done about it however. He could not hide in his rooms all day, no matter how appealing that thought was to him. He would have to face the other man at some time or another. 

_I shall tell no one_ , Childermass’ words from that morning echoed through his mind. Had the man spoken the truth? Would he keep Segundus’ secret? Something inside Segundus knew that he would. That Childermass, at least where Segundus was concerned, was a man of his word. This helped mollify his panic somewhat, but it did not make the prospect of seeing the other man again much more appealing. 

Segundus did his toilet and dressed slowly, not wanting to leave his room, but knowing that he would have to. There would be much to do. Mrs. Lennox would need to be consulted about the cost of repairing the damage from the fires. The students would need a firm talking to, and what to be done with the three who had started this mess was still to be considered. Segundus took one final look in the mirror above his wash stand, making certain that he appeared neat and presentable, before heading down to the kitchens, heart in his throat. 

Childermass however was nowhere to be found. Honeyfoot and Levi and Vinculus were at breakfast, all looking haggard and tired (or at least Honeyfoot and Levi looked haggard. Vinculus always looked as if he had just been caught in a windstorm after a night of heavy drinking). Honeyfoot looked up from his cup of black coffee and smiled a tired smile. 

“Good morning Mr. Segundus. I hope you slept well after the trying events of last night.” 

“I did not sir, but a good morning to you too Mr. Honeyfoot. How do you and Mr. Levy fare today?” 

“I now understand what a smoked rasher of bacon must feel like,” remarked Levy as he reached to pour himself another cup of tea and let out a dry cough.

“As do I,” Segundus admitted. “Good morning Vinculus,” he said to the bedraggled man in the corner who was busily shoving an entire hard boiled egg into his mouth. “Where is Childermass this morning?” He heard the slight tremor in his voice when he spoke Childermass’ name and flinched. 

Vinculus chewed for a moment before he responded, which did not help Segundus’ nerves in the slightest, and his answer was muffled by the lump of egg in his mouth. “Off to York today,” he said simply before taking a large bite of buttered toast, which made speaking to him further impossible. 

Segundus felt an odd mix of disappointment and relief to hear that Childermass would be away, likely for many hours, as his trips to York were usually day long excursions. It would be good to be able to avoid seeing him (and to avoid being reminded of his shameful discovery last night as well,) but also, there was a not-so-small part of Segundus that wanted Childermass to always be there, come what may. Under better circumstances, of course, but still… Also, there was the knowledge that he could not put off seeing him forever. He did not want to lose the other man’s friendship, and he could not punish him by avoiding him for the rest of their days. _Unless of course,_ he thought ruefully, _he does not wish to be my friend any longer._

Segundus put thoughts of Childermass and what he had discovered out of his mind for the time being and tried his best to focus on eating some breakfast and getting ready to start the day. 

All the students were called together out in the garden for a stern talking to, and the three offenders, Peter, who had taught two novice students the spells for fire and rain, and James and Rufus, said novice students who had then gone back to their respective rooms and had immediately set the Hall on fire, sat with their heads down and shoulders slumped, clearly ashamed for what they had done. 

The instructors had unanimously decided that expulsion, while tempting, was impractical. Young people with magical talent did not exactly grow on trees. And furthermore, they had all seen what had happened when someone tried to punish or suppress the doing of magic, and its disastrous results through Norrell’s stranglehold on magical books and magical knowledge. But, since the boys had still committed a grave transgression, they would need to be punished for it. 

It was Segundus that suggested that they put the boys to work with helping to fix the parts of Starecross Hall that were now charred and warped from the fire. The boys must also write letters home to their families explaining what they had done so that their parents could be made aware of their sons’ negligent actions. 

This seemed a suitable punishment to the other instructors. Mrs. Lennox would have to spend quite a bit of money to hire workmen to fix the damage (that which could not be remedied by magic), and the two boys were quickly put to work scrubbing soot stains from the floors and would be tasked with carrying boxes of lumber when the workmen could be arranged to come. Furthermore, they were kept from attending classes for a full week, which was truly the harshest part of the punishment. Peter and James both shed silent tears upon hearing that they’d be barred from learning and practicing magic for a week. 

Classes (with the remaining four students) resumed, and elemental magic was put firmly aside for the time being in favor of focusing on less dramatic spells. 

The day crept by slowly, and Segundus’ thoughts turned again and again to Childermass. What must he think of Segundus, now that he knew his shameful secret? Was he horrified? Disgusted? Disappointed? He had certainly looked shocked when Segundus had turned around and revealed his identity. Beyond that, it was difficult to tell, and this uncertainty had Segundus worrying the day away, distracted from his lesson plans and absent minded with fretting. 

Childermass had told Segundus that he would tell no one, and Segundus did trust him to keep silent, and that was a blessing indeed. But still, this did not mean that the man was not put off, not repulsed by what he had seen. Segundus bit at his lower lip and wrung his hands together as he considered returning Lady Pole’s things to the closet from whence they had come and striving to forget about them. The very thought had him overcome with regret, but how could he in good conscience continue to play with them when Childermass knew his secret. What if Childermass’ promise to stay silent were contingent on Segundus never again dressing that way beneath the same roof as he? 

Rather than let himself become mad with anxiety, Segundus took several deep breaths and resolved himself to put the issue (mostly) out of his mind until he saw Childermass again. 

To his dismay (and relief), Childermass returned relatively early from his trip. He was there for supper, looking pensive and keeping his eyes down at his hands as he ate. He did not engage anyone in conversation, save taking the time to snap at Vinculus for taking too much sliced chicken and to express his thanks to Honeyfoot for handling the disciplining of the wayward students in his absence. Other than that, he kept to himself. No one thought to ask him where he had gone and why, for Childermass often went on trips across the moors or to York or other surrounding towns, sometimes with Vinculus and sometimes without. It was a thing he did, and no one seemed to think it unusual. 

Supper ended and the staff and students of Starecross Hall began to drift away to do whatever it was they each did in the evenings. Segundus planned to retire immediately to his rooms, but was stopped in the hallway by Childermass, who stepped up to him out of the shadows like a cat and made Segundus yelp in surprise. 

“I do not mean to startle you,” Childermass apologized, flashing a shy, contrite look at Segundus. “I only meant to give you this and let you on your way.” And with that, he pressed something into Segundus’ hands, and with a small nod of his head, he was gone again, sauntering down the hallway and out of sight around the corner. 

The whole encounter had taken only a few seconds, and Segundus had been so startled and overcome with worry that he had not even spoken. He looked down at the package about the size of a smallish loaf of bread, wrapped in brown paper that Childermass had pressed into his hands with curiosity and confusion. Was he being given a gift? But that made no sense. 

He rushed to his rooms immediately, for he knew that he must open this mysterious package in private. His heart pounded as he shut and locked his door. He then put the package down on his bed and looked at it warily, as if it might contain a poisonous viper. 

What could Childermass possibly give him as a gift? The only object Segundus could ever imagine being gifted to him by John Childermass was a book. And this package was too soft and light (and not at all square). He knew the answer to his question was easily uncovered by simply opening the package, but still, he took a few more moments to look at it, to turn it over in his hands, while tremors of nervous energy spun in the pit of his stomach. The package was wrapped in crinkly brown paper, the kind that is frequently used in shops to wrap merchandise, but was otherwise unadorned. Rather than continue to torture himself with vague imaginings, he picked the parcel up and slowly, carefully unwrapped it. 

Inside, there was a neatly folded bundle of pale pink cloth and a small piece of slightly grubby paper. The paper, when Segundus picked it up and turned it over, turned out to be a note, written in Childermass’ spidery hand.

_This should go nicely with the rest_

Segundus felt his mouth go dry and his breath come faster as he put the note aside and unfolded the fabric with trembling hands. It was a lovely shawl. Long and soft, made of satin of a pale pink hue. It was trimmed with midnight blue beads, the likes of which Segundus had never seen before. He could not contain a gasp as the material fell out of its fold and spilled out across his bed in a profusion of blushing pink and dark, glinting beads, like inky tears. It was the type of evening shawl worn by very wealthy ladies when they attended high society functions, and much like Lady Pole’s shawl, was meant to be draped casually in the crook of one’s arms, rather than to offer any real warmth or protection from the elements. Segundus had never seen anything so beautiful, and unbidden, he felt tears brimming in his eyes and blurring his vision. 

John Childermass had now made him cry twice within the space of one day. Once from fear and shame, and now….now…. It was impossible for Childermass to truly disapprove of Segundus’ secret desires if he had bought him this beautiful shawl as a gift was it not? Had he ridden all the way to York to buy it? It must have cost a fortune!

All of these thoughts and feelings converged inside of Segundus in a swirling turmoil as he looked at the sumptuous fabric in his hands, and as tears made wet tracks down his cheeks. 

He must thank Childermass. He must tell him how much this meant to him, to know that he had not lost their friendship over this secretive thing, and to express his deep gratitude for this incredible gift. And not just that! In fact, he must tell Childermass that the shawl was far too fine and too expensive for Segundus to accept. He could urge Childermass to return it and get his money refunded to him. For it was clearly an expensive item, and Segundus did not deserve to have so much money spent on something that he could only wear in the privacy of his room, behind locked doors. That was what he would do, yes...he would find Childermass and thank him, and tell him that he must take the shawl back. 

And then another thought dawned on him. What if Childermass had purchased the shawl because he desired to see Segundus wear it? What if he wished to (in a certain way) purchase Segundus’ time and attention for the purposes of...of something sordid?

Segundus felt his face flush with heat at the thought of Childermass wanting to do those things with him. Of wanting to see him dressed in fancy women’s clothing. Perhaps of wanting to touch him while he was wrapped in his new shawl? 

He had not quite let himself imagine such things before, being that Childermass had shown no overt interest, and such subjects were not spoken of by a polite gentleman such as John Segundus. Least of all to another person of the male persuasion. He’d told himself over and over that his feelings were unwanted, would be rejected, would be seen as some terrible intrusion, and so he had kept silent. 

But this mad, incredible gift, this token of wealth and status and beauty, delivered into Segundus’ hands in the hallway near the kitchen, as if Childermass were loaning him a quill or a passing him a cup of tea… What could it mean, if not a request for some sort of special favor? 

_Oh my_ . Segundus did not know what to think of that. Well, he in fact _did_ know what to think of it, but were those thoughts proper? No. Were they decent? Not at all. The slightest imagining of Childermass’ rough, calloused, ink stained fingers sliding up the length of Segundus’ shin, stroking up inside of his thigh under the silken weight of delicate petticoats made Segundus’ knees weak and his face hot enough to cook upon. 

He did want these things, but with a stab of worry, he wondered if perhaps Childermass had confused him with one of the street boys from Whitechapel he’d heard tell of during his time in London. Segundus was a virginal schoolmaster of middle age, with silver in his hair and a stiff ankle and a penchant for head colds. He had no experience in salacious things, and did not want Childermass to expect something he could not even hope to provide him with. What if Segundus opened himself up to some sort of closeness with Childermass, only to be propositioned for some sexual act that Segundus found intolerable? Although, truth be told, most any sexual act seemed quite a bit more than tolerable when Segundus considered it being done to him by John Childermass.

And here another thought occurred to him. What if Childermass did not desire more than a night of passion with Segundus? What if he hoped to win his way into Segundus’ bed, only to move on to more handsome, more glamorous conquests? 

Despite all of these considerations, Segundus knew he must marshal his courage and go and talk to Chidlermass, before his chance slipped away and another day went by without them speaking.

He swiftly dried his tears and splashed some cold water on his face and went to find out where Childermass had gone, but not before putting the new shawl away safely in the box with Lady’s Pole’s gown and other articles, and sliding it back underneath his bed.

Luckily, he found Chidermass standing in the garden alone, puffing on his pipe in the dim twilight. Childermass turned when he heard the kitchen door open and froze when he saw Segundus approach. His motionless stance only lasted a moment however, for as Segundus stepped closer, Childermass looked past his shoulder at the door to the kitchen, and said, “Shall we walk a ways into the garden sir?”

Segundus was pleased that Childermass clearly meant to maintain their privacy and nodded his assent. He fell into step beside him and the two men strolled further away from Starecross Hall and out among the bushes and trees of the grounds surrounding it. 

Once they were shrouded in the shadows of a small copse of trees, some distance from the kitchen door, Childermass stopped walking and leaned against the trunk of one such tree and continued puffing on his pipe, clearly giving Segundus time to speak. Segundus cleared his throat and spoke, breathless with nerves though he was. 

“I...I wanted to thank you sir, for your gift,” he said. Childermass simply nodded, waiting, for he surely knew Segundus meant to say more. “It is quite beautiful. Quite lovely indeed.” Segundus added. 

“I am glad you like it,” Childermass said, and it might have been Segundus’ imagination, but he thought he could detect a note of relief in Childermass’ tone.

“It is far too fine a thing for me to keep however,” Segundus forged on, swallowing dryly and clearing his throat again. “It must have cost you a great deal, and I cannot accept something that expensive, for it shall be wasted on me.” 

Childermass remained silent.

“You must take it back where you purchased it and request that your money be returned to you sir,” Segundus could hear his voice rising an octave or two with his nervousness and tried to remain calm in the face of Childermass’ silence. “It is not that I am not pleased by it. It is...it...well, it is quite beautiful, but as it was likely so very expensive I-”

“I’ll not return it,” Childermass said, his voice a low rumble, his face lost in shadows, as it was now almost fully dark and the two of them were only lit from the far off glow of the windows from Starcross Hall along with the faint gleam of a half moon, rising slowly above the trees of the garden. “I meant for you to keep it and if you truly like it, then it has not been wasted.” 

Segundus had no response to this, so he changed tactics. “About this morning,” he began, but again Childermass cut in.

“I said I would tell no one and I will keep my promise,” he said. 

Segundus took a deep shaking breath. “Thank you Mr. Childermass, for your discretion. I hope you understand though sir, that by receiving this gift, I am not somehow... tacitly agreeing to...to...display it for you.” His heart was pounding away in his ears as he spoke and his face was unbearably warm, but he had to say all of what he’d come here to say. He had to make it quite clear that he was not available for Childermass to use casually and toss aside. Though he dare not say the rest of what he held in his heart...that he wished for far more than a single night of wanton pleasure.

Childermass was silent again for a moment, but then, before Segundus could rush to fill the silence, he spoke again.

“I would never presume such a thing,” he said simply. “It is yours, to do with as you please.”

Segundus let out a long breath in a rush. “Oh, that is good to hear sir,” he said. “It is not that I would assume that you would...enjoy such a thing, heaven forbid! I only wanted to be clear that if I do accept it, that there would be no ...expectations attached. Or rather, what I mean to say is that, I would not be expected to...to.” 

Childermass cut in again, “You need not worry. I shall not bother you.” He said. “You may do as you please with my gift, and need never mention it again if you do not wish to.” And with that he knocked the ashes from his pipe and turned to head back to the house. 

Sensing that he had misstepped somehow, Segundus reached out and laid a hand upon Childermass’ shoulder. The other man stopped in his turning away and looked back, face unreadable in the gathering darkness, a posture of patient expectation in the set of his head and shoulders. 

“It is truly the most beautiful thing I have ever seen,” Segundus said, hoping to impress upon Childermass how very much such a gift meant to him. “I am humbled by it,” he said. “Thank you sir.”

Childermass nodded once and then turned away again and walked, in his casual swaggering fashion, back to the house and into the kitchen door, leaving Segundus, standing in the dark, his head and heart in a sudden turmoil. 

  
  



	6. Chapter 6

Childermass went upstairs to his room with a heavy heart. He should not feel rejected. He had not asked for anything from Segundus. His gift of the shawl had only been meant as a peace offering and a reassurance that Childermass would not only keep his secret, but that he held no judgment for Segundus’ wearing of women’s clothing. 

Yes, he would be lying if he said that he had not thought many times of what Segundus, pale and slender, would look like wrapped in that pink satin shawl. Of how the color would match the blush that would surely make its way across the tops of his cheeks, and how it would contrast with his dark hair and eyes... But he would never have assumed that Segundus would allow him the gift of such a sight. Nor had the shawl been meant in any way as a proposition. 

Childermass realized his mistake with a regretful twist in his gut. He was smitten, and because he was smitten, he had ridden off rashly to York for the day with the sole purpose of hunting down and purchasing the loveliest piece of women’s clothing he could find, so that he could press it into Segundus’ hands. He’d told himself he’d done it only to assuage Segundus’ fears of discovery and disapproval. But in truth, he had meant it as a declaration of a sort that he was wholly unprepared to make, and one Segundus was absolutely not prepared to receive. In his haste to reassure the other man, he had slipped and confessed far more, and that had in turn understandably (if unintentionally) made him out to be a letch of the worst sort. 

Of course Segundus assumed that Childermass had ulterior motives for his gift. How could he not? It was a fair assumption to make being that it had cost him more money than he had ever spent on another single object in his life, and that he had given it to Segundus immediately after witnessing him engaged in a very scandalous act. 

Not that the shawl’s purchase would put him in the poorhouse. Childermass rarely spent money if he did not have to. It was a skill he’d learned from watching miserly Norrell scrimp and save for 18 years. He had saved almost all of his wages for nearly two decades and had plenty of money squirrelled away in a bank in London, under a false name. He could easily afford to purchase the shawl, or any other clothes that Segundus might fancy, and would do so again and again if Segundus wished it.

But Segundus did not wish it. He did not know that Childermass would gladly pull the moon down from the sky just to make him smile. To Segundus, Childermass was little more than a good friend. A friend who had purchased a gift that was far too expensive and far too suggestive of something indecent to be seen for what it truly was; a declaration of deep affection. Of course Segundus believed that Childermass had motives of a lascivious nature. For what man of pure intentions bought his friend a lady’s shawl of pink satin out of simple companionable affection?

Childermass sighed regretfully as the full measure of his error made itself known to him. There was nothing for it now however. He must endeavor to give Segundus a wide berth, and not to broach the subject again. Perhaps, if he behaved as if nothing had happened, as if he had not tried to confess his feelings to Segundus so rashly and incomprehensibly, that the other man would forgive and forget… 

Childermass went and found Vinculus so that the man could earn his keep by allowing Childermass to work on deciphering the lettering on his skin for a while before they retired to bed. He would have usually invited Segundus to join them, as the two were slowly working to piece together some sort of key by which to unlock the mysterious scribbles and symbols that littered Vinculus’ back and arms, chest and belly. But tonight, Childermass dared not ask Segundus for his help. Not so soon after their discussion over Childermass’ ill conceived gift. 

He spent a frustrating hour or so in peering at Vinculus’ left shoulder blade by candlelight before giving up and heading to bed. Vinculus noticed his agitation, as he sometimes deigned to do when it suited him. “You are all flustered this evening Reader,” he remarked as the two made ready for bed. This process involved Childermass removing his clothes and donning his nightdress, while Vinculus simply removed his hat and coat. “Is it your headmaster that has you turned around? Quite a pretty one he is yes?”

Childermass flinched at Vinculus’ highly irritating insightfulness. The man had spent the first unknowable decades of his life as a prophecy. He had the unsettling habit of seeing through the surface of any situation and striking to the core of it without preamble. How he knew the things he did was beyond Childermass. He sent up a fervent prayer that the Raven King had not rewritten Vinculus as a tawdry book of limericks. “He is not  _ my _ headmaster.” Childermass grumbled. “ And his prettiness or lack thereof is of no concern to me.”

Vinculus did not reply, and a moment later, a loud snore erupted from the lump under the covers on the bed. Childermass sighed and climbed in beside him. 

….

The next morning, he busied himself with helping Segundus and the other instructors to teach the four remaining students (those who were not engaged with cleaning up the damage they had done). He kept a polite distance from Segundus, who maintained a polite distance from him as well. Yet they kept glancing at each other. Childermass would look up and see Segundus’ eyes flick away from his face, and several times, he was caught sneaking glances at Segundus as the man spoke to the students or other instructors. They did not however speak to each other. If anyone noticed the change in their demeanor, no one mentioned it or gave any indication, which was a blessing. Childermass did not want anyone to pay undue or curious attention to Segundus at this fragile time. He needed everything to go smoothly and as usual so that they could return to the sort of fond acquaintanceship they’d enjoyed before the debacle with the dress. 

The day was passed pleasantly in the instruction of the students, and mercifully, no more events of a dramatic nature transpired, and Childermass began to relax his shoulders and breathe more easily. 

After being caught looking, he became more careful and resumed casting furtive glances at Segundus when he could be sure the other man would not see. He was struck repeatedly by the way Segundus’ pale, well formed hands moved through the air as he spoke about this or that spell. And his voice...clear and higher pitched than the other men, and soft… He lost himself momentarily in the memory of what that voice sounded like saying Childermass’ name, hesitantly and quietly under the trees the night before. He could not help but consider how slender Segundus’ waist looked beneath his waistcoat, and how lovely his face appeared, flushed from the excitement of teaching. 

Soon, he had to banish such thoughts for fear that he would expose himself as the besotted fool he was beneath his cool, collected exterior. It did no good to moon about after Segundus in this fashion, not when he was now certain that the other man did not welcome those sorts of attentions. Sighing, he focused instead on how little Henry Darlington was progressing with the hand motions of the spell he was attempting that would fuse two halves of a broken twig back together. The boy's small brow was furrowed in concentration, but his fingers were not quite in the right position to execute the spell correctly. Childermass leaned over and moved the boy’s fingers to the right places with his own, and had him try again. This time, the twig moulded its two parts together and became one. The boy beamed up at Childermass, who could not help but smile back. When he glanced up, he saw Segundus’ eyes on him. The other man realized he was staring and swiftly looked away, attending to his own student. Childermass saw his face go pink and heard him stutter when he next spoke, and this caused a flicker of excitement in the pit of his stomach. 

He quickly banished the flash of joy brought on by being the object of Segundus’ temporary scrutiny. It meant nothing. The other man blushed more than most, and often for things as small as spilling his tea or in accidentally bumping into someone in the hallway. 

That evening, at supper, Childermass sat across from Segundus. He had not meant to do so, but Vinculus had plunked himself down one one side, and Honeyfoot on the other, leaving only the chair directly opposite Segundus open for the taking. He took his seat warily, keeping his eyes away from Segundus’ face. He helped himself to some of the roast beef and carrots that were passed by him on a platter and took a long gulp of wine to keep from looking up. 

“Mr. Segundus,” Honeyfoot said, leaning over a little to address Segundus across the table. “With all that has transpired recently, I had completely forgotten about Lady Pole’s belongings. Do you know, I encountered a young woman in the market who wishes to purchase them? She is the daughter of a wealthy merchant and in need of some fine clothing. I told her that she may have them free of charge, being that it did not cost us anything to procure them. I hope this meets with your approval.”

Childermass’ looked instantly at Segundus, and their eyes locked.  _ Lady Pole’s belongings.  _ All at once, the origins of the gown made itself known to Childermass in a rush of insight. He could clearly see the panic in Segundus’ face, and he would do anything, say anything to make it go away. Without stopping to think, for clever deceptions were often executed by him out of a natural instinct for such things, he cut in and responded to Honeyfoot. 

“Mr. Honeyfoot, Mr. Segundus. I must beg for your forgiveness sirs,” he began, keeping his eyes trained on Segundus’ face as he spoke. “I met a lady on one of my visits to London last month who wished quite fervently to purchase Lady Pole’s things, for she had recently spilled ink upon her favorite gown. I too told her that she may have them free of charge and delivered them to her by way of the post quite recently. I apologize that I did not tell you of it sooner, for I too forgot about the matter what with the recent turmoil.” 

Segundus’ eyes went wide, and his mouth fell open. Luckily, Honeyfoot’s natural inclination toward friendly chatter, and his complete lack of curiosity surrounding women’s fashion saved them both from having to speak further. 

“Oh what a fortuitous turn of events!” he crowed happily, patting Childermass on the back and grinning, clearly assuming that Childermass knew of Lady Pole’s abandoned clothing, even though he himself had never mentioned it to Childermass. “It is a relief to have the matter sorted. I shall express my regrets to the lady from the market when next I see her. I am certain she shall understand.” He was distracted then by Purfois who wanted his opinion on some matter and he turned away. 

Segundus was staring down at his hands in his lap, blushing furiously, and Childermass was left in the aftermath of his rash decision, wondering if he had upset or alarmed Segundus. He had acted without taking the time to think. But what was done was done, and now he had successfully dug himself even further into the controversy surrounding Segundus’ secret desires. To cover for his fear and uncertainty, he shoved a large bite of beef into his mouth and chewed industriously, keeping his eyes trained on his plate. 

The rest of the meal passed (for Childermass and Segundus in any case) silently and quite awkwardly. They neither spoke, nor did Childermass catch Segundus looking at him again, for the man seemed intensely fascinated with the contents of his own plate. As soon as he had finished eating, Childermass excused himself and went out to the garden to be alone and to think. He could not concentrate on anything with Segundus sitting across from him, looking so very confused and so very pink. 

He had barely been in the garden for more than a few minutes however when he heard the kitchen door open again and Segundus appeared, looking pale and uncertain. 

“Perhaps you would enjoy a stroll around the grounds?” he asked, his eyes settling somewhere in the vicinity of Childermass’ chest. 

Childermass nodded and again the two walked out into the darkness under the trees. Childermass tried to calm his racing pulse as he stood and waited for Segundus to speak. 

“I am unsure of what to say,” Segundus began, sounding fraught. 

“I did not mean to-” 

“Please, Mr. Childermass, let me finish,” There was a sharpness to Segundus’ tone that Childermass wasn’t sure he’d heard before, and he obediently fell silent. 

“You should not have lied to protect me,” Segundus said. “It was not necessary. I should have told Honeyfoot that he could have the clothing, for it would have gone to its rightful place, as a much needed and desired addition to a young lady’s wardrobe...and would cease to be hidden away...beneath my bed.” His voice fell then with shame and Childermass’ heart did a painful little flipflop inside his chest.

“Why is it not in its rightful place now?” Childermass could not help himself but ask, for he had never been all that skilled at keeping his mouth shut at inappropriate times. 

“You know why sir!” Segundus snapped, displaying a rare flash of temper that surprised Childermass. “It does not belong in my possession because I wish to...well, you are quite aware of what I wish to do with it, having witnessed such an act with your own eyes. It is shameful and wrong, and I should not be allowed to own such lovely things that were never meant for me to wear.”

Childermass’ mouth betrayed him a second time that evening. “You deserve to have all the lovely things your heart desires,” he said. 

Segundus was momentarily struck dumb, for he did not respond, only stared at Childermass silently under the silverly light of the moon filtering through the branches of the trees under which they stood. 

“You deserve to be draped in silks and velvet and have pretty combs for your hair,” Childermass continued. “You deserve closets full of lovely dresses. You deserve it all.” He could not stop once he had started and he felt a dawning dismay that his mouth and his heart had come together to betray him in this manner. 

Soon, Childermass’ limbs joined in the mutiny and he stepped closer to Segundus and took his hand, very carefully, noting with relief that the other man did not pull back. 

“You deserve all of it,” he repeated, holding Segundus’ hand in both of his, as if it were a fragile thing, easily broken. He found Segundus’ shame and fear unbearable and felt his heart swell with the uncontrollable urge to touch him, to console him. 

Segundus let out a little gasp of surprise, but still, he did not pull away, a fact that made Childermass’ pounding heart sing inside his chest. He looked steadily at Segundus’s face as he stepped a little closer still. “I did not buy you that shawl so that I could see you in it,” He said. “I did not buy it for any other reason than that I hoped it would make you happy, and that it would convince you of my approval of your inclinations. That it would convince you that you are not judged by me in the slightest way, and that I shall never tell a soul of your private enjoyments. I lied tonight so that you did not have to, for I know that you hate to be dishonest. I lied tonight so that you could keep your lovely things, for I have some inkling of how much they mean to you.” 

“Oh Mr. Childermass. You..you have...” Segundus’ voice grew faint and trailed away into silence as Childermass’ hand came up and touched his cheek with gentle fingertips and he stepped closer still. Segundus looked so sweet and so soft, standing there, half wreathed in shadows, that he could no longer resist the urge to be nearer to him. 

“If you do not desire to be kissed, then I beg you to stop me,” Childermass said gruffly. He had not intended to say those words, but they were pulled from him, for he found himself drawn inexorably closer by Segundus’ large, dark eyes upon his face. The other man did not ask Childermass to stop. Instead, he stepped closer as well and then they stood very near each other indeed. Segundus’ eyes shone in the moonlight and they had settled quite firmly on Childermass’ lips. 

A sudden noise from the house made them both jump guiltily. Hadley-Bright had stepped outside to smoke his pipe. Childermass knew that they were well hidden from sight within the small copse of trees, but still he pulled Segundus further into the shadows before pressing him gently up against the trunk of a tree and kissing him. 

Segundus made a small noise, a sigh of surprised pleasure, and melted in Childermass’ arms, growing soft and pliant against him, as if he were a marionette whose strings had just been cut. Childermass felt the world narrow down until the gentle press of Segundus’ lips upon his own was the only thing that mattered and the only thing he knew. Segundus, to his delight, soon grew braver and returned the kiss, pressing firmly back against Childermass’ lips, and winding his arms around Childermass’ neck, and Childermass could not help but moan softly in response.

He pulled back after a little while, his head reeling, for this kiss was a thing done impulsively and without Segundus’ express permission and he did not wish to press his advantage. “I would like to kiss you some more sir,” he said, breathless but patient. “And I wish to know if that is something you desire as well, for I would not dream of-”

He was cut off before he could finish by Segundus crashing their mouths back together and winding his arms even more tightly around Childermass’ neck. Childermass’ surprise turned swiftly to an urgent sort of hunger as he pressed Segundus’ body up against the surface of the tree trunk and kissed him with abandon. Segundus’ hands found their way into Childermass’ hair, and Childermass slotted his hips against Segundus’ and gave a slow, rolling press there, and Segundus made a high pitched, ragged sort of noise and pressed back.

It was only when Childermass found his hands desperately working to untie Segundus’ neck cloth that he remembered that they were standing in the shadows outside Starecross Hall, and should anyone stumble upon them, they would both be in a dire situation. “We cannot continue here,” he breathed as he broke the kiss a second time. He was pleased when Segundus’ eyes stayed closed and he tried to chase Childermass’ lips with his own. His upturned face in the silver moonlight was painfully lovely. 

“Will you come to my room?” Segundus recovered himself enough to ask, and Childermass nodded swiftly. “Good,” Segundus replied, breathless and still oh so soft in Childermass’ arms. “I shall enter first and you may follow behind after some moment’s wait. Knock and I shall let you in.”

Childermass nodded again, not quite trusting himself to speak, bestowing a few swift parting kisses to the man’s lips and cheeks, and one upon his forehead for good measure before reluctantly letting Segundus pull himself slowly out of his embrace. Giggling softly, Segundus fixed his disheveled neck cloth, straightened his clothing and ran his fingers through his hair to smooth it before he walked away and back toward the house. He looked back once, a sustained glance over his shoulder that had Childermass’ heart skip a beat.

Childermass waited, breath still coming quickly and body aflame beneath the shadows of the trees. And though he would much rather follow Segundus immediately into the house and to chase him up the stairs, he made himself slowly count to one hundred before he followed. 


	7. Chapter 7

When Segundus pulled open the kitchen door and stepped back into the house, he was greeted with the noise of raised voices. One was clearly Honeyfoot’s, being polite as always, but with a strong tone of discomfort at the edges. The other voices were of a man and woman that Segundus did not immediately recognize. He rounded the corner into the sitting room and took a moment to absorb the scene that was unfolding in front of him. Hadley-Bright and Levi stood with Honeyfoot and the man and woman whose voices Segundus had not recognized, as well as a very frightened looking Peter, in the center of the room. Everyone wore an expression of tension and concern, especially the man, who looked as if he boarded on apoplexy, his face red and flushed, his fists clenched, knuckles white at his sides. 

“May I ask the meaning of this?” Segundus said, stepping into the room and feeling a thrill of apprehension as several pairs of eyes swivelled in his direction. 

“Is this the headmaster?” the woman asked, her voice high pitched and shrill with anxiety. Segundus realized that these must be Peter’s parents.

“I am he, my lady. I beg of you to tell me what has transpired that has everyone so perturbed. How may I be of assistance?”

“You may be of assistance by telling these _gentleman_ ,” the man sneered as he said the word, “that they are obstructing the rights of parents who wish to collect their son. We came here from Harrogate because we heard a rumor that the lad had set his school ablaze. He will be removed back home with his parents and punished for his actions.”

“Please Mr. Baker sir,” Honeyfoot interjected with a nervous flutter of hands and a contrite expression. “The lad will be perfectly welcome to remain here and continue with his studies. There is no need to-”

“No need?!” This from Mrs. Baker, Peter’s mother. “No need?! He has committed a grave transgression against you sirs, and your establishment, and what is worse,” Segundus could hear the door to the kitchen swing open and knew Childermass had entered. “What’s worse is that it was _you sirs_ ,” here she pointed at Honeyfoot and then swung her accusatory finger in Segundus’ direction, “who taught him these devilish tricks!”

“Please, please, sir, madam, I am certain we can come to an understanding,” Segundus approached them with hands outspread, keeping his voice soft and calming, hoping to decrease the tension in the room. “Elemental spells are quite common in the practice of magic. Peter simply went ahead of his studies, as boys are wont to do, and it was our fault to have not supervised him more closely.”

“Your fault indeed!” This from Mr. Baker, who appeared to be working himself up into quite a state. “We are very aware who is at fault here. Peter is at fault for committing flagrant arson, and after he is removed from this school and comes home with us, he shall be soundly whipped for it! And you! The lot of you shall be maligned by my wife and I to whomever we can find to listen. You’ve poisoned our son with your magical wickedness!” 

Childermass had at this point entered the sitting room as well, though he kept to the back and did not make himself known to the parents of poor Peter. His eyes sought out and found Segundus’ and Segundus felt bolstered by that dark gaze upon his face. 

“Mr. and Mrs. Baker, please. He is your son, and you may take him if you wish it,” he began, walking over to stand near Peter and place a protective hand upon his shoulder. Peter, who was by this point weeping silently, with his eyes cast down at his feet. “But do not blame him for his actions. It is I, the school’s headmaster and the one who is in charge of approving and instituting the lesson plans for this establishment that is to blame for what he did, I introduced such spells into the curriculum far too early and misjudged Peter’s readiness to perform them safely. He should not suffer for my error.” 

This speech did not have the desired effect of calming Mr. Baker’s ire, for he only became more red in the face and strode over to them with such purpose that Segundus could not help but take a precautionary half-step back. From the corner of his eye, he saw Childermass tense and begin to shoulder his way toward him, but he held out a hand in Childermass’ direction and flicked him a warning glance with his eyes that said _do not intervene_. Childermass grudgingly ceased to advance, but he did not relax from his tense posture, and appeared ready to jump to Segundus’ aid should he need it. 

“Sir, please,” Segundus bagan again, not removing his hand from Peter’s shoulder. The boy was shaking with fear, and Segundus could tell that whippings and harsh language were probably a common thing in his household. Segundus' own father had been quite rough and cruel to him when he was a lad and he could not abide by such abuse. “Please,” he repeated, making a soothing motion with his free hand. “There is no need for harsh action. He may stay here if he wishes. We have already instituted what we see as an apt punishment for his actions. Magic means so very much to him, and being that it was our school that he set fire to, and we are not overly concerned with keeping… I thought that you would let him stay and continue his studies.” 

“We’ll do no such thing!” This from Mrs. Baker. “As my husband said, he shall be removed and beaten soundly and shall return to working in the mill with us, as is right and good and Christian of him to do.” 

“I am afraid then sir, madam,” Segundus said, feeling fear and anger flood his chest and cause his jaw to tighten and his mouth go dry. “That I shall be forced to intervene. For I cannot condone the whipping of a child, no matter how mischievous an act he has committed. Nor do I wish him to be removed from the study of magic, for he shows great promise in it’s practice. We shall do you the service of refunding his tuition, and he may continue his classes free of charge, but I cannot allow you to lay your hands on him thusly.” 

Mr. Baker drew himself up to his full height, (which was considerable) and glowered down at Segundus with a murderous rage in his eyes. “How dare you sir? How dare you endeavor to tell us how to raise our child and what is to be done with him. We used to see magic as something useful for him to know, but now...now it has been made clear that it is nothing but destructive witchery and scandalous uselessness. Give us the boy, or there will be consequences!”

Childermass materialized at Segundus’ elbow and he felt the man’s large hand come to rest in the center of his back, a silent offer of assistance and support that lent Segundus strength in the face of the now completely enraged Mr. Baker. Segundus knew then, with an intuition heightened by the fear and anger he was feeling, that Childermass would always step between him and danger. He would protect and defend Segundus, even at the cost of his own life. He was unsure of how he knew this with such certainty, but the knowledge caused his heart to swell and his courage to stoke itself up to a flaming heat. He too pulled himself up to his full height (which was not very tall at all) and stared back at Mr. Baker with as much flinty resolve as he could manage. 

“Sir,” Segundus began, “your son did make the common and understandable mistake of wanting to continue to experiment with the spells that we taught him after classes were over. It was a grave mistake indeed, and we have tasked him with helping to rebuild the parts of the school that he and the other student’s damaged with their tomfoolery, as well as preventing him from the study or practice of magic for a week’s time. We also had him write a letter home to you and your wife...a letter explaining what he had done and why, which will likely arrive in a day or so to your residence. He feels quite enough remorse already for his actions, and probably more so, now that you are here, threatening to beat him and threatening me and the school with defamation and possibly violence. It was _our_ building that he and the other recalcitrant students damaged, and it was _our_ job to punish him and we did so. If you had sent him to some traditional boarding school, and he were to make some sort of grave error there, would you then come and demand to bring him home, despite the offer of a free tuition, in order to whip him and make him work in the family business? I think not!”

Mr. Baker appeared taken aback by this flood of words, and opened his mouth to reply, but Segundus wasn’t finished. “ _Furthermore sir_ ,” here he took a little step closer to Peter and thrust his chin out a bit for emphasis. “Your son has embarked on an education which will allow him to follow in the footsteps of great magicians such as Mr. Jonathan Strange and Mr. Gilbert Norrell, Whose combined skill and dedication to the subject of magic was a driving force in helping our country defeat France and in bringing the devil Napoleon to his knees! All of England trembled before the power of those gentleman’s magic, and one day, England very well might owe a similar debt to Peter! I am dismayed that you are threatening him with violence, but, as you so succinctly reminded me, he is not my child, and it is not my place to tell you how to raise him. But sir, his education _is_ my business, and I will _not_ have you casting aspersions onto the illustrious and powerful and deeply vital study of English magic!”

He was breathing quite heavily by the end of this little speech, and his cheeks were hot and so was his neck and chest. Childermass had not left his side, the steady, warm pressure of his hand at the center of Segundus’ back had not left either. Beyond the now stunned faces of Mr. and Mrs. Baker, Mr. Honeyfoot bore an expression of disbelief, while Hadley-Bright was grinning like a fool. 

“Well...I…” Mr. Baker stammered uncertainly, deflating a bit from his ire and looking about him with sheepish confusion. “You said… free tuition?” He asked. 

“Yes sir,” Segundus allowed himself to relax a bit as well and unclenched the muscles in his jaw and shoulders a little. “I would gift his tuition to you for the honor of keeping him here as a student, for he shows great promise, and I would rather lose the money than lose a talented student of magic.”

“Herbert,” Mr. Baker’s wife was tugging upon his sleeve. “I think we should take the headmaster’s offer. It is a generous one, and you know that Peter will be useless if we take him home now. He’ll mope about and daydream of going back and won’t be any help at the mill.” 

“Very well,” Mr. Baker said, adopting a look of haughty forgiveness that made Segundus mad enough to spit, but that he endured for the sake of settling the matter. “Your offer is acceptable to us. You may keep the lad here if you choose. And I should hope to hear of some good progress from you Peter!” This, said sternly to his son, who nodded mutely, drying his tears on the back of his sleeve. 

It took several more minutes and some awkward conversation before they could usher the Bakers out of Starecross Hall and back on their way home. Segundus took Peter aside and asked him if he were alright and the boy nodded and thanked Segundus for speaking up for him. “I thought for sure my da would make me leave, and whip me besides. Thank you sir for convincing him I should stay. I’ll do my best to make you proud.” He then offered up a shy smile that made Segundus’ heart soft. He ruffled the boy’s hair and sent him off to bed with a stern reminder to wake up good and early to help the laborers work on refurbishing the Hall. 

After Peter had been sent upstairs, even though it was quite late at this point, Segundus, Childermass and the other instructors sat around talking and having a drink before retiring. Segundus received many pats on the back and many compliments on his bravery and several times, Purfois and Levi recounted the words of his speech (paraphrasing heavily) while toasting him with glasses of port. Vinculus wandered down and partook as well, cackling with glee when he heard the tale recounted. 

Segundus smiled and laughed along with the others, and had his own glass of port (pressed into his hands quite insistently by Mr. Honeyfoot). The only person who did not congratulate him was Childermass, for there was no need. He had stood by Segundus’ side in the face of the enraged Mr. Baker, and had offered his hand in support. He did not join much in the reveling, but whenever Segundus looked at him, he saw Childermass looking back, steadily and with eyes that seemed to smoulder like coals on a fire. The effect of such looks was quite profound, for Segundus found his breath coming faster and his body heating up beneath his clothes. 

By the time the other instructors were yawning and heading off to their beds, Segundus was quite flustered. He had returned as many of Childermass’ burning glances as he could, without fearing detection, and it had helped that Honeyfoot and the others had been a bit tipsy with drink, for they seemed not to notice. Now though, as the other men were swiftly leaving the sitting room for the comfort of their beds, Segundus gave Childermass a very significant look indeed and flashed him a shy smile before making his way to the stairs himself. 

He went to his room with butterfly wings of nervous tension filling him up in the pit of his stomach and with tingling fingers of excitement that played their way across his scalp. Behind him, he heard Childermass’ heavy step upon the stairs and this made his breath come faster. He knew (or thought he knew with some certainty) that Childermass would not simply come straightway to Segundus’ rooms. That would be far too bold, too risky. And yet, since their rooms were next to each other, the man’s footsteps still followed him all the way up the stairs and a little way down the hall, the sound of Childermass’ heels on the wood of the stairs almost drowned out by the pounding Segundus’ heart. When he reached his door, Segundus turned and saw Childermass, not more than a few feet away, standing at the entrance to the door of his own bedroom. No one else was in the hall in that moment, and Childermass’ eyes were again focused relentlessly upon Segundus’. The man’s face was transformed with longing. His cheeks flushed, his mouth soft and parted, his chest rising and falling with his breath. His eyes held the heated promise of what was soon to come.

Segundus felt himself go momentarily weak and shivery under that dark gaze. “Goodnight Mr. Childermass,” he said softly. 

“Goodnight Mr. Segundus,” Childermass replied in a deep rumble. He then gave Segundus a secretive half-smile and disappeared into his room and shut the door. 


	8. Chapter 8

Childermass hated being forced to wait. He could not simply knock on Segundus’ door immediately and sweep the man into his arms, no matter how much he longed to do so. He must wait for the other instructors to settle into their beds. He must also execute a few careful spells to ensure that no sounds escaped Segundus’ bedroom. This however could not be done until he himself was inside the room, and so he went over the words of the spell in his head, over and over as he removed his clothing and donned his nightdress. His thoughts strayed relentlessly to Segundus’ dark eyes and soft lips and the shy way he had returned Childermass’ looks all evening. There was such apprehension, mixed with desire in Segundus’ gaze when their eyes had met in the sitting room, and Childermass longed to sooth the former and stoke the latter in the most ardent fashion imaginable. 

He felt a small twinge of doubt as he waited, pretending to read a book while Vinculus drank from a bottle of beer and ate a (probably pilfered) scone on the bed, scattering crumbs carelessly across the sheets. He felt doubt that Segundus wanted him as fervently as he wanted the other man. Segundus was a soft creature. A cautious man with gentle manners. How could he feel the sharp pangs of lust, the torment of longing that now gripped Childermass’ insides with pulling fingers? He was uncertain, but he’d be surprised if Segundus had ever experienced sexual congress before with anyone. And this thought, of being the man to take his virginity was both intensely arousing and also had the effect of making Childermass quite nervous. 

What if he hurt Segundus? What if he did something unpleasant, or too rough or simply lost control of himself and caused the man pain? Segundus was a delicate thing. A delicate flower, and Childermass, with his calloused hands and gruff manner... and it had been many years since he had touched virginal skin. 

Perhaps Segundus was not a virgin after all though? Perhaps he had some experience? Childermass did not want to make assumptions. He tried many times to school his thoughts to a calmer, more steady pace as the minutes ticked by and the words of the book he had open on his lap blurred unseen before his eyes. 

“I’d like to get some sleep tonight, so if you don’t mind, could you please get to your business and leave me in peace.” This from Vinculus, who was now sitting cross legged on the bed and glaring at Childermass impatiently. 

“What do you mean?” Childermass asked, feeling his face warming up. “I am simply reading a little before bed.”

“And I’m the king of England,” smirked the man with the raggedy clothes and knotted hair. “Go on wicha and don’t wake me when you come back in either.” And with that, he rolled over and promptly fell asleep. 

Childermass felt a dozen sharp retorts queue themselves up on his tongue, but being as Vinculus was now emitting his typical loud snoring, they would fall on deaf ears. Blast that man’s uncanny intuition! Or perhaps, Childermass realized as he looked down at the page he had yet to turn after fifteen minutes of pretending to read, Vinculus did not have to be a soothsayer to divine Childermass’ intentions tonight. 

Well, now was as good a time as any. Childermass rose and put the book down, not caring to mark his place as he hadn’t read a word anyway. He opened his door as soundlessly as he could and listened for a moment before stepping out into the hall. The house was silent. He slipped out on bare feet and made his way swiftly to Segundus’ door, his body vibrating with anticipation and nervous tension. He tapped softly on the door, and was pleased to hear almost immediate movement from within. The door was pulled open swiftly by Segundus, who ushered him in with a shy smile. 

The other man was also in his nightdress, a fact that Childermass found intensely interesting, as he had never seen Segundus in this state of undress before. The two stood there for a moment, simply staring at each other nervously. Childermass’ eyes made a pleasing journey down the length of Segundus’ body, pausing hungrily at his bared throat and then again at his slim ankles and pretty white feet before rising to drink in the sight of his face. Segundus was flushed and trembling, and he looked smaller and impossibly softer than he had any right to. 

Childermass ached to hold him, but first he must make sure they would not be heard. “Give me but a moment,” he said, holding a hand up as Segundus took a tentative step toward him. Childermass muttered the words to the sound dampening spell and waved his hands. 

“You have done magic?” Segundus asked, a small furrow appearing between his brows. 

“Yes, a spell to dampen noise,” Childermass replied, and Segundus’ eyes went wide.

“Oh,” he said softly, and then he turned pink. 

Childermass stepped closer. “I did it to give us some privacy,” he said, his eyes catching and holding Segundus’ steadily. “I did it so that no one may hear the sounds I wish to make spill from your lips.” 

“ _Oh_ ,” this second exclamation was barely a breath and Segundus’ eyes went wider still and his mouth fell open oh so slightly. 

Childermass closed the distance between them and bravely looped an arm about Segundus’s waist. He pulled them fully together, so that he might feel the warmth of Segundus’ slim body against his own through the thin material of their nightdresses. This elicited a gasp from Segundus. “May I kiss you?” Childermass asked, heart in his throat. 

“Please, yes,” Segundus whispered, and Childermass leaned in and pressed their lips together. 

Childermass’ doubts that Segundus felt the same passion for him were then swept away completely as Segundus sank into his embrace and his mouth opened, soft and sweet against Childermass’. The man had this way of becoming weak and pliant the instant Childermass touched him, as if Childermass’ fingers contained some form of soporific agent. As if Segundus was drugged by Childermass’ hands upon his skin. He melted and softened and pressed his body urgently against Childermass and drove his fingers into Childermass’ hair. He was like soft butter, like hot bath water, like something Childermass could grasp and mold and sink himself into with no resistance. 

It was through this kiss, this melting, deepening kiss that Childermass grew to know the ways Segundus’ passion expressed itself. Segundus lusted from a place of loose submission, and his weakness made Childermass feel stronger, which in turn made Segundus even softer and weaker still. Segundus showed passion by opening and softening, and his wet, hungry mouth and compliant body made Childermass feel harder, rougher by contrast, and that contrast, between his hardness and Segundus’ softness made Childermass _ache_. 

“You shall be the death of me with your kisses,” he whispered against Segundus’ open mouth. “I shall tear myself apart from wanting you.” 

“Then have me please,” Segundus whispered back. “Do with me what you will sir, for I am yours.” 

Childermass heard himself make a harsh noise in the back of his throat as he reclaimed Segundus’ mouth with his own. This time, he was rougher, the press of his lips harder, and he moaned as he felt Segundus absorb this roughness like sand soaking up water from the crashing waves of the sea. Childermass hands fisted in Segundus’ night dress over his low back, then gripped his narrow hips through the thin material and pulled him flush against Childermass’ body. Now he could feel the only part of Segundus that was not soft. The part of him that was hot and stiff. Segundus’ state echoed Childermass’ own, for he was throbbing in response. A slight adjustment of his hips and they were intimately pressed together and Segundus made a desperate noise against his mouth.

“To..to the bed, please.” he gasped. Childermass did not stop kissing him, only walked him backward until the backs of Segundus’ thighs hit the edge of his bed and they both tumbled onto it. Soon they had arranged themselves with Segundus lying on his back, Childermass on his side, leaning over him, kissing him still. He pulled away with some difficulty to look down into Segundus’ flushed face. 

“Mr. Segundus sir,” he began.

“Call me John, please,” Segundus’ mouth quirked up into a sly smile, his eyes like pools of bottomless dark water, his lips bruised and his cheeks pinked. He was ridiculously beautiful. Childermass swallowed thickly.

“Very well then...John,” curiously, the taste of his own name on his lips when referring to the man he adored made a bolt of heat shoot through him. “John,” he tried again, striving to keep from kissing Segundus senseless before he could say what he wanted to say. “I must ask you..”  
  


“Have I done this before?” Segundus finished, and Childermass nodded. “I confess I have not,” Segundus continued, a look of apprehension creeping across his face. “I had hoped my inexperience would not be a deterrent to your...to your feelings.” 

“It is not, not in the slightest,” Childermass stroked Segundus’ hot cheek with a gentle hand. “I only ask so that I may know how to proceed. I have no wish to harm you, or to do anything which would not be very enjoyable for you.” 

“Oh sir, you need not concern yourself over that,” Segundus’s words were accompanied with a breathy chuckle. “I have wanted you, here in my bed with me for such a long time. I cannot imagine a thing you could do that would not be welcomed by me.” 

“You have….wanted me?” Childermass, despite the fact that Segundus lay, soft and yielding in his arms, gazing up at him with such fondness, was still pleased and a little surprised to hear this. As if Segundus had started desiring him only the moment their lips had first touched and not a minute sooner. 

“Why yes,” Segundus admitted, dropping his eyes and becoming impossibly pinker in the cheeks. “I think I have wanted you from that day you came to offer your help in setting up the school. I may have wanted you even as I felt anger toward you for closing it the first time. I am not certain that I allowed myself to see it before, but it was there. This pull. This…” his voice faltered as he brought a hand up and laid it against Childermass’ chest. 

“I worried sir,” Segundus pushed on bravely, despite a tremor that played about the edges of his voice. “I worried that you would only want a night or two with me, and would then be on your way, off to greener pastures and more… more experienced lovers. If that is the case,” Segundus’ brow drew up into a worried furrow and he kept his eyes fixed upon the hand that still rested over Childermass’ heart. “Then by all means sir, tell me now. It will not keep me from proceeding, but it will...it will let me know what I can expect from you on the morrow.” 

These words Segundus spoke came from a place of such courage that Childermass was rendered briefly speechless. His mind brought up the image of Segundus, earlier that night, bravely facing down Peter Baker’s enraged father. A man more than twice Segundus’ size and strength. It was then that he realized that to be soft and weak, yielding and accommodating, it sometimes took great strength and courage. Segundus did not flinch from responsibility, and he always told the truth. This courageous honesty was something Childermass did not himself possess, not in the pure, uncomplicated way Segundus did, and he was momentarily struck with admiration for the slender man lying in his arms. 

To think that Segundus had admitted his desires for Childermass with no guarantee of them being returned...that he would risk rejection and would bare his heart anyway...would not even put an ultimatum on their time together tonight. It was humbling. 

Childermass took the hand that Segundus pressed against his chest and held it, interlacing their fingers, and softly, gently kissed the back of it. “You need not worry over where I will be tomorrow,” he said, surprised to find his voice thick with feeling. “I will be here. Tomorrow, and the next day, and the next. And on and on until you grow sick and tired of my presence and kick me forcefully from your bed.” 

Segundus’s smile as it broke across his face was like sunlight. “So...you care for me?” 

“I do,” Childermass replied, holding Segundus’ hand against his heart, pressing it there. “I am hopelessly smitten.” 

“Oh my,” Segundus’ eyes were wet with unshed tears and Childermass could not bear to keep from kissing him one moment longer, and so he leaned down and did just that. 

Segundus sighed and pressed up into Childermass’ kiss and brought a gentle hand to Childermass’ stubbly cheek. Childermass ran a hand up Segundus’ leg, dragging the material of his nightdress up with the motion. “May I touch you...beneath your clothes?” He asked, unwilling to move without Segundus’ approval. His hand paused, above the bared skin of Segundus’ upper thigh as he waited for permission.

“If you do not and soon, then I fear I shall go mad,” Segundus replied with a breathless little laugh. “I may be a virgin, but I am not a fainting maiden...well not on the best days anyway,” He reached down and took hold of Childermass’ hand and pressed it firmly against his leg. Childermass grinned as he resumed kissing Segundus, and let his hand travel up the silky length of Segundus’ thigh to caress his hip. This had Segundus moan against his mouth, and cant his hips up into Childermass’ hand. Further encouraged by his noises, Childermass slid his hand higher, across the topography of Segundus’ ribs, pulling the nightdress up as he went. 

He stopped kissing Segundus for a moment then to glance down and finally get a good look at his nakedness. The man’s slim, pale legs and flat stomach, almost convex between the bones of his pelvis were lovely indeed. His member, stiff and pretty and hovering above the white plain of his belly, drew Childermass’ eyes hungrily. 

Gripped suddenly with the desire to see all of Segundus, and for their skin to touch without the barrier of clothing, Childermass swiftly, and with a little clumsy maneuvering, hiked his own nightshirt off and over his head before pulling off Segundus’ as well. The other man raised his arms obediently, clearly very invested in helping Childermass unclothe him. “You will tell me, will you not, if I do something that displeases you?” Childermass asked, encouraged by Segundus’ eyes as they roamed across Childermass’ chest and lower, where his own member was straining, hot and full against his belly. 

Segundus nodded earnestly, his eyes never leaving off their perusal of Childermass’ body. “May I touch you?” he asked, eyes darting briefly up to Childermass’ face, and Childermass almost laughed at the question. 

“Yes, of course,” he said, smiling. His smile soon became a gasp of pleasure as Segundus’s tentative hand encircled him at the based and gave him a gentle squeeze. “ _Jesus_ ,” Childermass swore, as Segundus’ fingers dragged languidly up the length of Childermass’ cock and played briefly at the head. “Jesus god,” he mumbled, and, after another slow, careful stroke from Segundus’ hand, he sucked in a sharp breath and pulled that hand away from him gently. He then rolled over so that he lay fully atop Segundus. They both moaned in unison. 

“You cannot touch me that way,” Childermass growled as he pressed kisses against Segundus’ flushed neck. “You will end me far too quickly with those gentle touches. I will finish before we begin.” 

Segundus could not give his opinion on this matter, for he was too busy making little staccato gasps and pressing his neck up against Childermass’ lips and endeavoring to jut his hips up against Childermass’ body, seeking friction. 

Childermass gave an experimental roll of his hips, pressing down against Segundus, pressing them together, and was rewarded with an open mouthed cry and a pair of hands gripping his hip and low back, urging him onward. Segundus’ hands, his fingers at first soft and exploratory as they caressed Childermass’ low back and down over his buttocks, soon curled to scratch gently into the flesh. He was struggling to pull Childermass even closer, though in truth, there was no closer Childermass could get. 

Childermass set up a slow rhythm of deliberate thrusts, and each movement brought the maddening friction between them to a tighter, higher pitch of pleasure. He covered Segundus’ gasping mouth with his own and moaned into it as he and Segundus worked their bodies together. He knew this would all end soon enough, and needed to ask if there was anything more Segundus required to reach his peak. He pulled back again. “Can you?...Like this?” he asked, his voice a ragged thing in the back of his throat. 

“Yes! Yes. I will. I will... I am nearly there,” Segundus’ eyes were wild and hot and tight at the corners.

“I as well. You feel too good… Your body...your cock…” Childermass increased the speed of his thrusts, rubbing soft skin and hard heat together between them and felt himself building to his peak. He buried his face against Segundus’ shoulder and breathed in the fragrance of him, tea and soap and old paper and that honied sweetness beneath it all that he couldn’t quite define. Before he could let the smell and feel of the man writhing beneath him cause him to reach his peak however, he paused and pulled back, his breath coming in sharp gasps as he looked down into Segundus’ face. That face, so lovely and flushed, so clearly overcome by pleasure. He struggled for control. 

“I want to watch you,” he said. “Will you let me finish you with my hand while I watch you?”

This question made Segundus’ cheeks go an even deeper shade of pink and his eyes grew curious “If you wish it. If such a thing would be pleasing…”  
  


“I cannot express to you how pleasing it would be,” Childermass interjected. “But if you do not like the idea…”  
  
“I think I will like it fine enough,” Segundus said, with a shy smile. 

Childermass rolled to the side and reached down, palming Segundus’ cock, pressing with the heel of his hand. Segundus cried out again and jutted up into his hand with a desperate thrust of his hips. Childermass encircled Segundus’ cock, which was hot to the touch. He began to gently stroke him and watched as Segundus’ face transformed. His dark eyes rolled back and slid closed, brushing his cheeks with thick, dark lashes. His mouth fell open and he let out such a moan, low and soft. Childermass increased the pace and settled, propped on his elbow so he could watch Segundus’ changing expressions and place kisses to the delicate shell of his ear. “Yes, this...this is what I want,” he whispered roughly into Segundus’ ear. “I want to see you come apart. I want to watch your face as you lose yourself.” 

Despite the fact that Segundus seemed weak and overcome with pleasure, he had the presence of mind to reach a hand between them and grasp Childermass in turn, emulating his motions with clumsy but quite effective pulls on Childermass’ member. Childermass groaned and let his head momentarily fall onto Segundus’ shoulder. 

“I would like to watch you as well,” Segundus said, his voice rough and determined. “I would like to make you spill with my hand as you do the same to me. I...I would, _dear lord, yes love”_ (he was momentarily overcome by the feel of Childermas’ hand on him) “I would like us to watch each other.” 

Segundus opened his eyes and Childermass raised his head, their gazes locking, and they watched as the movement of their hands upon each other brought them both to the edge of climax. 

“John...I am..soon... I will…” Segundus stammered, his brows drawn together over wide, dilated eyes as his mouth gaped open and his cock jerked in Childermass’ hand. He let out a series of high pitched gasps as he spilled, hot and slick over Childermass’ knuckles. He kept his eyes on Childermass’ face, urgent and bright as he spent. It was quite possibly the most beautiful thing Childermass had ever witnessed.

“Yes love, _yes_ ,” Childermass groaned, and overcome by the sight and sound of Segundus reaching his pleasure, he followed him, feeling his gut twist with a pleasure so sharp that the edges of his vision went dim and white. He spent himself in Segundus’ soft hand with a series of moans. 

It took quite some time before either of them had the presence of mind to move, to do anything but lay panting and loose and warm, trading soft kisses and soft looks. Segundus crept from the bed to fetch a flannel that he wetted from his wash basin and returned to clean them both up. Once this was accomplished, they settled in one another’s arms, Childermass on his back, with Segundus curled against him and around him, trailing lazy, soft fingers over Childermass’ chest and twisting them gently in Childermass’ long, messy hair. 

“How did you enjoy your first time laying with a man?” Childermass asked, running a possessive hand over the small swell of Segundus’ hip. 

“It was passably pleasant,” Childermass could feel Segundus smiling against his shoulder and he gave the man’s arm a playful slap. “I jest of course,” Segundus added, his voice warm and thick like honey. “I am very happy. It was...It was very good indeed.” He wriggled closer and sighed. 

“And you will let me return again? Perhaps every night for the foreseeable future?” Childermass was teasing, but also, he was not. 

“I do not want you to leave _now_ Johnny. May I call you Johnny?” Childermass nodded. It suited him rather well he thought. “I do not want you or I to ever leave this bed,” Segundus continued with a happy sigh. “Perhaps we may simply pass notes to Honeyfoot and Hadley-Bright and the rest under the door as to the day’s lesson plans, and spend the rest of our lives here. Surely some servant will be prevailed upon to bring us food and water.” 

Childermass grinned at this and tightened his arm around Segundus’ waist. “This sounds like an excellent plan.”.

They lay in silence for a while. Childermass’ heart felt full to bursting. He could not seem to stop touching Segundus. The man’s skin was soft like silk and warmed from lovemaking. All except for his toes, which were somewhat chilly and pressed endearingly against Childermass’ calves under the sheets. He kissed the top of Segundus’ sweet smelling head and ran his fingers gently up and down the length of the man’s arm and side and hip, over and over, slowly and reverently. Eventually, Segundus began to move into his touch and to press against him in ways that told Childermass that his ardor had been aroused again. Childermass felt his own body react, growing hotter and more alert as well. 

“Is it possible,” Segundus mumbled gruffly against Childermass’ neck, where he was currently placing many small, soft kisses and attempting to bite him gently, “ that we could perhaps…”

“Make love a second time?” Childermass raised an eyebrow and peered down at Segundus’ flushed face. 

“It is quite appropriate that you use that term,” Segundus remarked, pulling back from his investigation of Childermass’ neck to look up at him with large dark eyes, the color of hot coffee. “For I feel..” here he paused, blushing, and ducked his head, looking away from Childermass’ in a fit of shyness. “I feel as if perhaps I _do_ love you,” he said from the underside of Childermass’ shoulder. 

“And I you,” Childermass said, without hesitation. “John,” he said softly, reaching a hand to tip Segundus’ face up so he could look at him. “John,” he repeated when he had Segundus’ eyes on his. “I feel the same,” he said. “I have loved you for quite some time.” 

Segundus gazed back at him with such a joyful look that Childermass could not help but enfold him in an embrace, pulling the slim man on top of him and burying his face in Segundus’ neck, squeezing him so tightly that Segundus let out a surprised little squeak. 

They kissed then, and kissed and kissed, and a very short time later, Segundus was moving desperately atop Childermass’ body, gripping fistfuls of Childermass’ hair and making desperate noises. Childermass ran his hands everywhere, stroking down Segundus’ long, slender sides and gripping his narrow hips and warming Segundus’ cool buttocks with eager hands. 

Before they could advance much further however, he lifted Segundus’ face from his own to look into the other man’s eyes. “Would you like to wear the dress?” He asked. 

His question, a simple one on the surface, caused such a cascade of different emotions to cross Segundus’ face that for a moment, Childermass feared he had misspoken. 

“Oh my yes, yes I would,” Segundus gasped, but then looked pensive. 

“What is it?” Childermass asked, smoothing a dark lock of hair from Segundus’ brow with tender fingers. “What is wrong?” 

“Nothing is wrong my love,” Segundus replied, looking as if he were searching for the right words to use. “Only...the dress is so very fine, and I would be very upset to soil it.” 

Childermass grinned. “You need not worry about that,” he said. “You have invited quite a clever person to your bed. I know how we can protect your lovely clothing. Now go on and fetch it and put it on, for I cannot get the memory of you in it out of my head. It haunts me.” 

Segundus grinned like a child at a fair and scrambled out of bed in a tangle of pale limbs. Soon he had pulled the dress box out from under the bed and was shrugging it carefully over his head to let it fall about him in a profusion of cream and silver silk. He had yet to fasten it, or tie the ribbon, and already he was so lovely, so beautiful in it that Childermass felt his breath catch in his chest. 

Segundus turned and presented his back to Childermass, grinning happily over his shoulder at him. “Would you do me the service of buttoning me up sir?” he asked coquettishly. He was unbearably charming. Childermass sat up on the bed and did up the small row of round buttons at the back of Segundus’ bodice, noting with interest how Segundus shivered at the gentle tugging of the fabric. He then reached around and grasped the ends of the silver satin ribbon and tied it snugly in a bow around Segundus’ ribcage. Segundus turned and stood before Childermass, where he was still seated on the edge of the bed. He held his hands behind him and looked down shyly, coloring prettily as he swayed a little to make the skirts of the dress shift and billow about his legs and brush the tops of his bare feet. “How do I look?” He asked, and in his tone, Childermass could hear the faintest echo of nervousness and a lingering note of shame. 

That would not do.

“You,” Childermass said, taking Segundus by the hips and pulling him closer, looking up at him with earnest eyes as he settled his hands against Segundus’ silk covered waist. “You are beautiful.” he said. He watched as Segundus turned a deeper shade of pink, not yet daring to meet Childermass’ eyes.

“I am not sir. Do not lie,” he said, and there was that hint of shame again. “I am naught but a middle aged schoolmaster in a lady’s dress. I am not lovely at all, though I thank you for saying so.”

Childermass rose to his feet, and taking Segundus by the shoulders, he turned him and sat him down upon the bed. He then took a pillow from the bed and placed it on the floor to protect his knees, before kneeling down before Segundus. He placed his hands on Segundus’ silk draped thighs and gazed up into his face. Dear god but the man was lovely. His large, dark eyes gazed back down at Childermass over cheeks the color of a spring dawn. His mouth, thin but no less appealing for its shape, was gaping open ever so slightly and his breath was coming a bit faster. Arousal from wearing the dress no doubt. 

Childermass reached up and placed a hand to Segundus’ soft, flushed cheek. “You are the most beautiful creature I have ever laid eyes upon. I have struggled for a long time to keep from telling you this, to keep from touching you, kissing you. John,” he paused, overcome for a moment by the affection filling him up inside. “You are the loveliest of men. This dress does not define you, nor does it shame you. It only serves the job that a new waistcoat or a smart new jacket would do. It enhances what is already there in abundance. It only brings out the beauty you already possess.”

Segundus’ eyes had grown wet and shining during this speech, he had reached up to clasp the hand against his cheek and now, he pressed it to his lips in a fierce kiss. “Oh Johnny,” he breathed, and the nickname made butterfly wings open and close furtively in the pit of Childermass’ stomach. “You are too kind.”

“I am in love,” Childermass replied, stating it simply and without fear. “And so I admit that perhaps I am a little biased, but that does not change your beauty.” And then he took his hand back and ran both of them slowly up the length of Segundus’ thighs, over the material of the dress. “Now tell me love. What is it that you want from me? How can I bring you pleasure?”

“Oh dear,” Segundus breathed, and his eyes lost their focus at the feel of Childermass’ hands on him. “Oh Johnny, would you touch me over the dress? That is all I’ve ever wanted. To wear it and to be touched while I wear it.”

“With pleasure,” Childermass grinned wickedly and he returned to stroking Segundus’ long slender legs with his hands, spreading open palms up the length of his thighs before gripping his waist, marveling at how narrow it was. 

Segundus moaned and trembled and fell back on the bed. “Oh yes, Johnny, that is so...the way your hands feel upon me…” He seemed unable to go on as Childermass stroked reverent hands over Segundus’ body over the dress. As Childermass continued to do so, Segundus only grew wilder and more excited. It was a thing that fascinated Childermass. That the simple act of pressing soft fabric against Segundus’ skin could undo him so. 

Segundus’ cockstand was clear and stiff through the material, jutting up temptingly from under the soft, shining fabric. Childermass ignored it for the time being, though this was not an easy task. Insead he grasped Segundus by the hips and pulled him closer, so that his bottom was half on the edge of the bed and half off. This brought a surprised gasp and a low moan as Childermass continued with the slow, deliberate strokes of his hands on Segundus’ legs and waist and up over his chest. He rose up on his knees and ran gentle fingers over the achingly beautiful ridge of Segundus’ heaving collar bone above the neckline of the gown. Segundus arched his back into the touch, rising off the mattress with a rough, open mouthed gasp. His desire, so naked, so wild and heated, had Childermass tight and throbbing. Segundus had melted again, becoming something half liquid and half flesh as he writhed helplessly under Childermass hands upon the bed. 

Childermass could no longer resist and pressed gentle fingertips against Segundus’ straining cock-stand through the skirts of the dress, and Segundus cried out sharply and thrust his hips up, seeking more pressure. “Careful!” he gasped, reaching down a trembling hand to grip at Childermass’ wrist. “Careful, please Johnny.” 

Childermass looked up at Segundus and stilled his movements until Segundus, curious from the cessation of touch, raised his head and looked down at him. 

“I told you that you would not soil the dress, and I meant it,” Childermass said, breathless himself with the knowledge of what was to come next. “All you need do now is enjoy yourself love. Let me take care of you.” And with that, he reached down and slowly pushed the skirts of the dress up with both hands, running them up Segundus’ calves and then his thighs as he went. Segundus let out another low moan and fell back again upon the bed as Childermass pushed his skirts all the way up his white thighs to his hips, revealing his pretty pink cock. Segundus’ extreme excitement was evident in the way his cock-stand twitched gently with the beating of his heart, and how he jerked his hips up with desperate little pulses. His breath was coming in ragged gasps and his hands were fisted in the sheets at his sides, his head rolling back and forth against the mattress. Childermass had never in his life seen a thing more beautiful or more profoundly arousing than John Segundus, in a lady’s dress, coming completely unraveled under his touch. 

“There is only one way I know to keep your dress clean and still let you reach your pleasure,” he said, grinning as he idly stroked Segundus’ trembling thighs. “And I shall be happy to show it to you.”

“Johnny.. _.please_ ,” Segundus whimpered, his voice a ruined thing, his chest rising and falling sharply with his breath. “ _Please_ ,” he repeated, and the begging tone in his voice had Childermass reach a quick hand down to grip himself, so that he did not spend right then and there. 

“Since you have asked so nicely…” he replied, and then, without preamble, he bent his head and sank his mouth down on Segundus’ cock. 

“Johnny! Oh! Please, _please. yes_!” Segundus’ voice was rough and broken and it did things to Childermass’ insides that had him keeping a tight grip on his own cock while he slowly bobbed up and down upon Segundus’. 

It took only five or six strokes before Segundus was arching up into Childermass’ mouth and crying out sharply as he spilled his seed. It took every ounce of strength Childermass possessed not to fall over the edge with him. He tightened his grip on the base of his cock and focused instead on drinking down the sweet-sour heat that pooled in his mouth as Segundus writhed and gasped beneath him. 

Eventually, Segundus lay limp and his cries faded away to soft moans and then to silent breathing. Childermass kept a tight seal on Segundus’ cock with his mouth and pulled up and off of him, making sure to suck every last vestige of spend from the heated skin, so as to save Segundus’ precious dress. He then dropped his head to rest for a moment against Segundus’ hip, breathing deeply and calming his body, for he was quite close to his own peak. Feeling Segundus lose control and spill inside his mouth had Childermass tingling on the brink of climax, and it took him a long moment to drag himself back from that sharp edge of pleasure and regain control. 

Once he had done so, he stood, his legs feeling more than a little unsteady beneath him and brushed his long hair back from his face and stretched languidly. His cock-stand bordered on painful and was throbbing, halfway to his belly. 

To his surprise, Segundus pulled himself upright and reached for Childermass, pulling him closer by the hips. “May I put my mouth on you?” He asked, looking up at Childermass with eyes that gleamed with post coital satisfaction and something deeper, more profound. He bit his lower lip and Childermass felt his knees buckle slightly under him at what that sight did to his insides. 

“Yes of course,” he rasped out, putting his hands onto Segundus’ narrow shoulders so that he didn’t collapse onto the floor. “I warn you though love, I’ll not put up much of a fight. It will be over soon, for watching you has me very close.” 

“We shall simply have to do it again later then,” Segundus grinned, and then leaned forward and tentatively licked the leaking head of Childermass’ cock, effectively erasing any response Childermass had been preparing to make. Childermass sucked his breath in with a hiss and watched, enthralled, as Segundus slowly enveloped the head in his soft, hot mouth, his wide eyes staring up at Childermass as he did so. 

“Oh _Christ_ ,” Childermass whispered as Segundus slowly sank his way a few inches further down onto his aching prick. He wrapped his hands in Segundus’ silky, sweat damp hair and fought valiantly to hold himself off for a few more seconds. This sensation, the other man’s wet mouth and soft lips enveloped more of his shaft, was indescribably good. He felt his stomach muscles begin a rhythmic clenching that was all too familiar and he closed his eyes and concentrated on the feel of Segundus’ mouth as it sank further down and then pulled back up again. “Fuck. Love, I am done. I am here. I cannot hold it…” he clenched his hands in Segundus’ hair and let himself explode, throwing his head back and yelling as his climax ripped through him in slow, torturous waves. He could not feel Segundus’ mouth on him, or Segundus’ hair gripped in his fists. He could not feel the floor beneath his feet. All he felt was tight pulses of pleasure. 

Slowly, he came back to earth, pulled his cock from between Segundus’ lips and collapsed next to Segundus on the bed, gasping and wrung out. Distantly, he felt the mattress move as Segundus rose, and he heard a rustling that he knew meant Segundus was removing the dress. He wanted to offer to help undo the buttons at the back of the bodice, but lacked the strength to move or speak. He was floating in a cloud of love addled bliss. 

Soon, Segundus returned and they both clumsily made their way back onto the bed and into each other’s arms. Childermass had a dim memory of Segundus’ soft hands stroking his hair and Segundus' gentle voice whispering sweet things in his ear, his breath tinted pleasantly with the smell of Childermass’ own spend, before sleep rose up and claimed him. 


	9. Chapter 9

Segundus tightened the silk ribbon of his gown behind his back with now practiced precision. He smoothed his hands over the pale green skirts, marveling at how lovely the material looked, despite being made of linen, rather than silk. 

Childermass had purchased him several new dresses for a Christmas gift, and all of them were made of simple materials, easily washed (and not easily stained), though all were elegantly designed. He had found a discreet custom tailor who would make dresses to any specification, and had spared no expense in having four dresses made exactly to Segundus’ measurements. Each one was embroidered with glass beads and sequins, or pretty, dyed feathers. Each one had fitted him perfectly. 

Segundus felt a smile make its way across his face as he remembered lifting the lid of the box and seeing the brightly coloured cloth that lay inside. The pure joy as he’d lifted one dress after another from the box and exclaimed over their beauty. He’d peppered Childermass’ face with grateful kisses and showered him with praise, which Childermass, never one to accept compliments easily, had grinned his sly grin and ducked his head. 

This dress, the pale green one, had a sky blue satin ribbon that wrapped high around his waist and sky blue lace trimming the skirt. Underneath it, he wore a plain chemise, that Childermass had also had made for him, also of material that was durable and unlikely to keep a stain. This allowed them both to play with each other freely while Segundus wore his finery, and saved him from worrying over ruining the fabric.

He still donned Lady Pole’s dress on special occasions, (which had also been altered to fit him perfectly), and when he did so, Childermass would sometimes finish him off with his mouth. At other times, it would be enough just for Childermass to slowly take the dress  _ off. _ He would slip buttons out of their loops and slowly untie the ribbon, and pull the skirts up and whisper filthy things in Segundus’ ear. By the time Childermass had him naked, Segundus would be close to his climax from the excitement of it. It was a special game they played when Segundus missed the feel of the fine silk petticoats and the weight of the fine gown against his skin. 

More commonly and in the intervening times, he found great pleasure and enjoyment in wearing the simpler, more durable dresses Childermass had had made especially just for him. Childermass was a doting lover. He seemed to enjoy spoiling Segundus with gifts of fine jewelry and new combs for his hair, or pairs of fine, white evening gloves for Segundus’ hands. At first, Segundus had balked, refusing to accept such finery, saying it would use up all of Childermass’ money, but Childermass had only smiled fondly at him and brushed the hair away from his brow and said that he had plenty of money and no one or no thing better to spend it upon. 

Segundus had not known it was possible to be this deeply in love, nor this happy. True to his word, Childermass did return to Segundus’ bed, again and again. He did not, as Segundus had first feared, want to move on to another lover, and had taken to sneaking into Segundus’ bedroom several nights a week. Outside of Segundus’ room, they remained as good friends, and carefully guarded their behavior around the other instructors. Sometimes, Segundus would join Childermass and Vinculus on their jaunts about the country, seeking forgotten books of magic or seeking information on how to translate the words upon Vinculus’ skin. For his part, Vinculus seemed to like Segundus. He ribbed him now and again, but just as often, he made sly quips about how Childermass was far kinder and less irritating when Segundus was around. And what was even better, he kept their secret. Segundus was unsure if this was due to Childermass threatening Vinculus’s health and safety, or if the other man was simply in favor of (or completely disinterested in) their union. Either way, he did not complain when they curled up together to sleep across the fire from him, and he slept far too soundly to notice when they quietly made love under the blankets in the night. And of course, he was glad to get his very own room in any inns they stopped at along the way, being that Childermass and Segundus now shared a room. 

This last trip, Segundus had not gone. He could not go on all of them. He could not always be seen in Childermass’ company. The way they were tempted to look at each other...tempted to touch, it was dangerous. And what was an equally compelling reason, Segundus was the headmaster of the school. He needed to stay home more often than not, simply to see to the education of the students and the administrative duties involved in that task. There was only so much of an excuse to be found in being a pair of magicians working on a compelling magical mystery. Even so, they received many congratulations upon becoming such fast friends, when previously, everyone had assumed that they’d had a strained relationship at best.

And so Segundus had not gone when Childermass and Vinculus made a month-long journey to Bath to visit a gentleman by the name of Winstead, who claimed to have an uncanny ability to decipher foreign symbols. The weeks had stretched by without Childermass’ company, during the day with the operation of the school, as well as at night in Segundus’ bed. 

Childermass had returned earlier this evening. In time for supper, and it had taken all of Segundus’ resolve to keep his hungry eyes off of the man’s face during the meal. He looked at Childermass yes, he couldn’t  _ not  _ look, but also, he could not devour him with his eyes the way he wanted to. They had had a pleasant conversation about magic, and had gently brushed fingers under the table, where they knew no one would be looking. It was a delicious sort of torture. To see Childermass’ face move as he spoke, to see his large, dark eyes and familiar, unkempt hair and his sly grin, right there. Right before Segundus at the dinner table, and not to be able to touch him, kiss him, throw himself into Childermass’ arms. Usually, when Childermass went away on a longer trip, a fortnight or more, they would find some few, private minutes to reconnect, to kiss fervently yet quietly in an unoccupied room, or out in the garden when everyone else was inside. Tonight they had been unable to, and it was driving Segundus half mad. 

A soft knock at the door alerted him to Childermass’ presence on the other side. It was half past ten, far too late for anyone else to come knocking, and so he cracked the door, and then swung it wide to admit Childermass in his nightdress. When the door was shut and locked, and the now familiar sound dampening spell put in place, the other man immediately wrapped his arms around Segundus’ waist and pulled him into a warm kiss.

“God but I’ve missed you,” he mumbled against Segundus' lips. For a long moment, all they could do was kiss and touch each other about the face and hair. 

“I missed you too Johnny. So much.” Segundus felt his body slowly relax and his mind still at the gentle touches of Childermass’ hands on his neck and face, the man’s warmth and his familiar smell of pipe smoke and camp coffee surrounding him and calming him. 

“And how is my pretty boy tonight?” Childermass pulled back, Segundus’ face clasped in his calloused hands and looked deeply into Segundus’ eyes. 

Segundus couldn’t respond immediately, being that he momentarily lost himself in Childermass’ warm, liquid chocolate gaze and felt his breath catch in his throat. 

“I am well my love. Better now that I have you back in my arms. The school is running smoothly. The only thing missing is you in my bed at night.”

“We shall soon remedy that,” Childermass’ grin had a hint of heat to it, and Segundus felt his knees go weak. “This green one always makes your eyes look particularly lovely,” Childermass added, letting his gaze roam down to the bodice of the dress Segundus was wearing, and pulling him closer with a proprietary hand on his low back. 

“I’m glad you think so,” Segundus felt himself flushing at the compliment. He was getting better at accepting praise from Childermass. And Childermass was learning to accept the compliments Segundus felt compelled to heap upon him as well. They were both learning what a strong and stable love built on mutual admiration felt like, and that it was a thing they both deserved. 

“How was your trip?” Segundus asked, feeling that he should not simply start removing Childermass’ clothes before asking a few polite questions. 

“I’ll tell you all about it after I’ve fucked you good and hard,” Childermass growled, and Segundus couldn’t help but moan and melt against him at the sound of that lascivious promise. And then Childermass was kissing him, hard and fast, and Childermass’ hands were gripping his waist and his buttocks over the gown and Segundus forgot all about his trip, forgot all about anything apart from Childermass’ lips and hands on his body. 

Childermass walked him backward and then turned him around and pushed him face down onto the bed, before roughly pulling up his skirts and caressing Segundus’ buttocks with both hands. He then set about squeezing and spreading him open roughly and bending to apply his hot mouth to that oh so sensitive opening. Segundus cried out sharply and jutted back into Childermass’ questing tongue and fisted his hands in the covers. He loved this act. This long, slow series of licks and little stabs with his tongue that Childermass used to loosen him up and get him wet and ready. Soon, Segundus was writhing and gasping senselessly under the relentless attentions of Childermass’ lips and tongue. 

The tingling wet pressure eased briefly and from the soft rasping sound behind him, Segundus could tell Childermass was pulling up his nightdress. Then, he felt the other man’s cock against his opening, slicked with still more of Childermass’ spit, and he was being eased open, entered and stretched in the most delicious fashion. 

“Oh God Johnny, I  _ have _ missed you,” he moaned as Childermass slid slowly inside him and bottomed out with a ruined noise in the back of his throat. 

True to his word, Childermass fucked him soundly indeed, hiking Segundu’s hips up with both his hands and then reaching to grab Segundus’ cock, stroking it in tandem with his thrusts. “I’ve been thinking of taking you thusly for days,” he gasped against the back of Segundus’ neck. “My pretty pretty boy in his pretty pretty dresses.” 

Segundus could only cry out in response, and soon the tight friction on his member, and the feel of Childermass’ cock inside him had him shuddering through his release. This in turn pushed Childermass over the edge and he gasped out his climax into Segundus’ flushed ear, his thrusts going arrhythmic and halting toward the end. He collapsed on top of Segundus and they both lay there for a while, loose and breathless. Segundus revelled in the feel of Childermass’ weight on top of him, and the soft kisses Childermass was currently pressing languidly into the back of his neck. 

After they had cleaned themselves up, Segundus donned his own nightdress and they curled up together under the blankets. Childermass, true to his word, told him all about their trip, about how Winstead was indeed adept in finding patterns in foreign and unknown symbols, and how over the course of the two and a half weeks they’d spent in his company, they had managed to translate an entire portion of Vinculus’ upper thigh. This had turned out to be a long story, a parable of sorts concerning the history of faerie magic in the Kingdom of some place called Nevermore. 

“The story we translated seems to have something to do with the practice of Faerie marriages.” Childermass remarked as he slowly stroked his hand up and down the length of the leg Segundus had slung over his waist. “It seems,” he said, his voice going soft and hesitant, “that faeries performed many ceremonies between members of the same sex. They do not have laws that prohibit men and men marrying, nor women and women.”

‘Hmm,” hummed Segundus’ happily, face buried in Childermass’ neck and listening with half an ear, distracted as he was by the languid strokes to his calf and knee. 

“Apparently, they even performed this ceremony for humans now and then,” Childermass said, his voice going softer still. “They enjoyed how marrying two men seemed to subvert English laws, and so they did it upon request, solely for the purposes of being wicked and contradictory. It is said,” and here, he nudged Segundus forehead with his nose and placed a soft kiss there. “It is said that they will perform such a ceremony without complaint. All the couple must do is find them out and ask.”

“Oh,” said Segundus, lifting his face from it’s warm nest in the crook of Childermass’ shoulder to look at him with wide eyes. Childermass’ words had finally broken through his postcoital dreaminess. “Oh,” he repeated, his heart leaping in his chest. “That is quite interesting.”

“I would not wish it if you did not,” Childermass said, turning pink in the face, which was rare for him indeed. 

“Oh Johnny,” Segundus brought a soft hand to Childermass’ rough cheek. “Do you? Would you really?”

“I would,” Childermass responded without hesitation. He did not need to elaborate, as they both knew of what he spoke. “Would you?” Childermass asked “if so, it would be only the matter of a short trip and some careful precautions. It seems they are happy to oblige if it spits in the face of English traditions. I am certain it would be quite safe.”

“Oh  _ Johnny, _ I don’t know what to say. I would so very much love to...to…”

“You would be my husband? Secretly of course,” Childermass’ eyes were trained on Segundus face intently. “We could tell no one and wear no outward sign of it. No rings. No announcements. Would you still wish to be married to me?”

“I would be honored to call you my husband,” Segundus said earnestly, and kissed Childermass fiercely. The kiss went on for quite some time before they pulled away from each other, breathless and flushed and smiling. 

“Very well then,” Childermass said, in the voice that may or may not have trembled a little bit with some strong emotion or another. “I shall look into the particulars.” He wrapped Segundus up in his arms then and held him tightly, and Segundus returned his face to that sweet smelling spot against Childermass’ neck with a happy sigh. 

“You know what this means don’t you my love?” Childermass asked, running his fingers slowly through Segundus’ hair. 

“What my darling?” Segundus mumbled against Childermass’ neck. 

“It means that I shall have to buy you a wedding dress.” 


End file.
